Season 11, Time For Some Payback!
by everyone'ssister
Summary: Season 7, time for a wedding? Season 11, time for some payback. Even though there were some laughs, let's admit it, 7.08 hurt some too. Dean tried to be understanding but...it looked like his heart was breaking! So what happens in present day when Sam discovers Dean has a secret lover?
1. Prologue

SEASON 11, TIME FOR SOME PAYBACK!

Season 7, time for a wedding? Season 11, time for some payback. Even though there were some laughs, let's admit it, 7.08 hurt some too. Even though Dean tried to be understanding it looked like his heart was breaking! So what happens in present day when Sam discovers Dean has a secret lover?

IMPORTANT! This is a little AU. The darkness has been defeated and Sam and Dean are getting back to their roots... Though the flashbacks of when Dean and his lady love meet are dated back to season 10. But present day is AU season 11. Hope you guys like! ;)

Prologue.

She always goes to the same down town coffee shop every morning. Her book shop sits just across the road from it waiting to be opened up for business that morning. She sits in the same chair, one of those comfortable round chairs, that manage to be soft and stylish at the same time. It's a window seat. She sits her coffee cup on the small side table and stares into the rising sun, dappling the side walk through the leaves in the big oak trees.

She couldn't ask for a better way to start to every one of her days. She drinks her coffee, eats her bagel or muffin, which ever she's feeling like. She watches the day rise, watches the sun wash over the earth and the face of her little shop across the street. The sunlight chases away the nightmares and the loneliness. She's sighs; she's ready to drown herself in work, bury herself in the dusty books and the quiet, but most of all the security of knowing this was her place; her home.

The barista got to know her, she got to him, she got to know all the employees and their work shifts. She learned who made the best what, and when they were working she ordered what they made best. They kept aside a muffin and bagel for her every morning, letting her take her pick. When it rained they gave her the pastry for free. They knew how she loved the dawning of a perfect day.

She got to know her neighbors at the little tiny house she was renting just round the corner. They had a dog who barked at her cat, and a little girl who idolized said kitty. Sometimes she babysat the little girl at the book store. Sometimes the little girl helped her garden in the little patch of earth in front of her small house. The plants took some coaxing to grow because of the large trees growing along the streets downtown. But she'd be damned if she had this perfect life, but didn't have flowers too.

She sold her car, she either takes a taxi or walks. She hardly goes anywhere anyways. Just from her house, to the coffee shop, to her little book shop across the street. Every morning she enjoys the simple things. She loves waking with her kitty lying in the bed beside her, she loves eating fresh fruit looking out her window at the seeds beginning to sprout in her yard. She loves standing on the sidewalk watering the plants in her best clothes. She loves the sound of her high heels clipping down the old worn sidewalk.

She loves her life, this life she's built. She worked hard to build it, and now she's succeeded. She's completely unaware that it's all about to change again.

She smiles at herself in the mirror this particular morning, as she finishes up her make up and hair, rubbing her lips together making sure the lipstick is evenly applied. Fingers run through the loose brown curls that flow over her shoulders, feet slip into one of her favorite pairs of heels.

One last pet to the cat, a warm, soft black coat over her floral skirt and light pastel blouse that ties at her throat and wrists. She does up the buckle of the ankle piece on her heels. She grabs her bag and is out the door. Bag hanging on her arm, she leans in to lock up, once it's locked she straightens the wreath on the navy blue door, she runs fingers down the smooth paint job. It looks pretty good, if she does say so herself.

One last look at the house, the cat sitting up in the window seat watching her leave for the day. She smiles and waves, moves carefully over her sprouting seeds. Just across the yard the little girl is watching for the morning paper for her father, she waves at her too, earning herself a, 'Good morning, Ms Aarons.'

There's birds singing in the trees, the sun is rising earlier with the time change, someone's dog barks in the still relatively quiet morning air. She takes a deep breath of cool morning ready for this day, ready to be satisfied by hard work and the things she loves...coffee, muffins, books, quiet...she could go on and on, but those things first.

The bell rings cheerily as she opens the door of the coffee shop. Owen, the barista working this morning, calls his morning salutation to her.

"Good morning, doll!"

"Good morning, Owen," she says back, in her voice that never rises over a certain volume, warm and a little deep, but very soft and feminine.

"What'll it be this morning?" he asks.

She scans over the warm glass cases, picking what looks good and sees the sign for chocolate chip muffins. Figures they're all gone.

Owen catches her longing look, "Saved one for you, knew that's what you'd want." He pulls a brown paper package out of the warmer oven in the back and places it on the counter in front of her.

"Thanks Owen," she smiles and sighs, "I'll take the caramel macchiato this morning, with an extra shot of espresso."

"Coming right up, sweetheart."

She drums her fingers, enjoying the sound her nails make against the counter top. Owen gives her a look as he places her coffee beside her muffin on the counter. She hands him her card which he swipes for her.

"Stranger in your seat this morning," he says in a hushed voice, pointing with his chin towards her usual window seat.

And there he sits. She looks at him for a moment, making a judgment about the 'seat thief' in her mind. He was seating in HER SEAT! She'd probably have asked him to move if he hadn't looked so content. The sun was streaming in, settling on his white skin, lighting some blonde and red tints in his dark brown hair, sparkling in the most beautiful green eyes she's ever seen.

His coffee cup is steaming from its spot on her little side table. He seems to be enjoying the quiet and the warmth of the morning sun too, so she decides one morning of sharing her seat with a stranger who apparently appreciates quiet and sun as much as her won't kill her. He'll be gone tomorrow and then she can have her seat back.

So she takes the second best seat in the house, and sits facing the stranger observing him as she eats her muffin and sips on her macchiato. Worn jeans, fitting just right, if she can tell while he's sitting down. Boots laced up neatly, facial hair and haircut clean and nearly military. His plaid shirt and navy blue coat worn but fitting him well both alike.

His worn brown leather wallet lays on her side table beside his steaming cup of coffee and cellphone. It's open, beside it a picture lies on the table. She can't really see it, but he looks down at it and then back out the window every few minutes. She decides the look of contentment and happiness on his handsome face is well worth giving up her seat one morning.

There is something about this man. You know those people you meet, the ones you just want to be happy. It's the way they look, or hold themselves...you just want them to be as happy as you are, and if you can help, then you will. She smiles and decides she likes his face. There's something about the warm eyes and sharp delicate features of his face that compliment each other perfectly.

The minutes of her allotted coffee time tick by, the man doesn't look like he's moving anytime soon. She had been hoping he'd leave and then she could have her seat back. She sips the last drips of her coffee, and rises feeling his eyes on her back. She liked him as long as he didn't look at her, and now he was. She turns to catch him in the act, but he just smiles at her and nods politely.

Looking for all the world very smug like, "Thanks for letting me steal your seat."

She nods back but doesn't deign him with a return smile. Instead she sighs and watches Owen pour her to-go cup of plain black coffee for work. Handsome seat thief's phone rings, breaking the silence and he answers in a disturbingly trust-inspiring, deep, gravely voice. She can hear the smoke and whiskey and thinks he wouldn't make a bad picture with a tumbler of something fine and his feet propped up.

"Hey Sammy," he says, and she finds herself smiling at the fondness reflecting in his rough tones.

"Yeah, I'm good, just ran for a coffee...no princess, they're out of chocolate chip muffins." She sniggers at the exasperated sounding answer on the other end of the phone. "Okay," smoke snd whiskey soothes, "I'll get you a bagel and a coffee...Sammy, I've been buying you coffee nearly every morning for the past ten years, I think I know how you like it. I know, I know...I'll be there soon."

She grabs her plain black coffee and is out of there, looking over her shoulder as the stranger rises to an attractive height, showing off broad shoulders, she tells herself she doesn't notice that or the way he looks her down, or how she returns the favor. She can't afford to like or be liked. Unattached, uncomplicated, her life motto.

She leaves listening to the stranger order "Sammy's" coffee and bagel.

She sighs out in the fresh air and gives a precautionary look up and down the street before she crosses and walks up the quaint stone steps leading up to the doors to her shop. She unlocks the doors and steps in. She flips the closed sign over to show 'OPEN', she looks back across the the street to watch the stranger leave the coffee shop, look up and down the street just like her, she thinks he may be a little paranoid over something.

He unlocks and and gets into a sweet American Classic job. The car is sleek and clean, and wow, as the engine roars to life, it grumbles deep as he stalls the car and then they're smoothly setting out into the street, heading back to whoever Sammy is.

She wouldn't mind a ride in that car.

As she begins to prepare everything for a day of business she promises herself she won't think about the stranger, the loneliness she felt when he smiled at the sound of 'Sammy's' voice, or his car.

...

There are a couple of weird things that Sam notices that clue him into the fact that something is changing. First off, his brother was becoming quieter and more content. He didn't have as many urges to drag them around America in the old impala, granted he was still thrilled when they found hunts, but Sam notices he likes to stay home in the bunker.

His brother was always a neat freak about his car and the bunker, but it had gotten worse. To the point Sam was a little worried about it. He'd nearly got his head bashed in a few times for tracking mud in, leaving a mess in the kitchen, and God forbid, his shoes by the front door. (Sam thinks leaving his shoes by the door is smart so then he doesn't track mud onto the clean floors. Dean sees it as lazy, and leaving another mess to avoid making one. Which Sam guesses is true.)

When Dean started wandering into his bedroom and cleaning up after him, Sam really got worried. Dean didn't even go in his room, he didn't spend anytime there, he just knew there was mess and had to clean it up. Sam let him have his way, and very slowly Dean was reforming Sam into a neat and considerate person.

But Sam was starting to get worried when Dean came into the kitchen one morning searching for coffee and actually ended up cleaning up the coffee grinds Sam had dropped on the counter and sweeping up the literally THREE grains on the floor before even pouring himself a cup.

Sam poured his cup of coffee personally, and made sure his brother drank it. Something was off with Dean...not necessarily bad. But when you're with someone everyday for ten years straight and then they suddenly begin to change it kind of freaks you out.

Sam dealt with the weird cleaning 'thing'. He was learning to live with it. It actually just endeared Dean to him, his big brother looked after him like always, even though the world was changing.

Dean cooked most of their meals when they were home, another new thing. And it was. REALLY GOOD too. Sam wasn't about to bitch about good home cooked meals, but he was officially keeping an eye on Dean 24-7.

That was another thing. Dean went out a lot. But not late, not nights like usual. Or not like Dean had back in their chasing tails days with angels and demons. Most mornings Sam would wake up and find a full pot of coffee ready for him, looking like one cup of it had been drunk, Dean long gone.

Sam couldn't figure out where he went to, or what he did. Just that his brother came back happy and safe, and as long as it stayed that way Sam couldn't really ask any questions. So he watched Dean, watched the stress and worry leave his face, got used to seeing a smile there most of the time. Got used to the fact that his big brother was getting full nights of sleep, that they both slept free of nightmares now.

Sam was just convincing himself all was well and that it was only life turning good that was changing Dean when two things happened. One; Dean started missing some clothes. A t-shirt here or there, one or two plaid shirts...HIS FAVORITE ONES. And two; well...

Sam was siting in the impala waiting for Dean as they were heading out for hunt. He was scrolling down the reports for the recent disappearances they were rushing off to investigate when it hit him. The impala smelt different.

It wasn't a bad smell. Far from it, kind of faint and pleasant, but definitely there. Sam sniffs the air and looks around for an air freshener or something but finds nothing. He's surprised Dean hasn't torn the upholstery up looking for the cause of it. His brother joins him, throwing his duffel over his shoulder and into the back seat, shutting the door behind him.

"You smell that?" He asks, honestly puzzled.

Dean just shrugs, "No, don't smell nothing."

"I swear," Sam says, "There's a smell, something new. You get an air freshener?"

Dean shakes his head, cranking up Baby and backing out of the garage. "I don't smell anything, Sammy, you're probably just smelling your own perfume."

Dean smirks at the epic bitch face that earns him.

"Dean," Sam starts, turning towards his brother on the bench seat. "This car has smelt the exact same every single day for the past ten years and now all the sudden something's different and you're telling me you don't smell it...in your car." He waits for it, but gets no reaction from Dean. "Your car smells, Dean, smells. No, it's not necessarily bad but it still smells different."

This should be worrying him more, Sam thinks. This was pretty big, this was the IMPALA. Something was definitely up with Dean.

Dean shrugs, looking exasperated, "I can't smell it, Sammy. Sorry, is it a crime?"

Sam says nothing else about the matter, but he's now sure something is up, something is changing...like drastically. He's determined to figure it out. He's not letting anything change what he and Dean have. Finally they have some semblance of a normal life, finally Dean is happy. And it is going to stay that way if Sam has any say in it. And he does.

So Sam decides to watch and wait, and will wait for Dean to give him some clues, will wait until his brother is ready to share or needs his help. The darkness was finally gone, it had taken so much from both Sam and Dean. But Dean had been a shell of the man he'd been before after they had defeated her. Sam wasn't about to sacrifice this Dean. Dean deserved to be happy, he deserved to be this healthy, content person.

It doesn't help in the least when five days later as they're heading back home to the bunker after wrapping up the hunt that Dean runs a fond hand over Baby's wheel and says with a deep, relieved, happy sigh;

"Can't wait to get home."

Sam smiles and agrees. Dean cranks the car and backs out of the motel's parking lot.

"Damn," he adds, talking to himself more than to Sam. "It smells good in here."

tbc...

Please let me know how you like this and if you want to read more...whether I continue this fic or not depends on y'all guys reaction...PLEASE REVIEW!

thank you


	2. Chapter 1

Chapter 1.

Flashback.

True to schedule and habit, the bell over the coffee shop door rings as she walks in the very next morning. It's a new day and another morning, yesterday had been a good day; she's happy. The sun was out and birds have been singing, one of her plants had showed its bright green head and body today. The weather was nice, getting warmer, though she still came in wrapped in her warm coat.

It was Brandi behind the counter today. A dark-skinned barista with beautiful black, bushy hair, who made the best mocha cappuccino. Unfortunately Brandi is the least of her concerns as her eyes light upon her seat. Filled again with Jean and plaid and leather...and the handsome stranger from yesterday.

She sighs as she walks up to the counter and orders her cappuccino and a bagel. What was he doing back? Besides who even gets up this early and comes to a coffee shop to sit? (Besides her.) Brandi smiles at her sympathetically as she hands over the bagel in the brown paper bakery bag and her coffee cup.

She stands for merely a second contemplating what to do but it's enough time for the handsome stranger to look up at her, smirking just as smugly as before. She grits her teeth and any chance at forgiveness he had before is gone. Now she just feels pissed; he's provoking her on purpose. He looks away as quickly as he looked and she's not even sure the interaction happened.

She wants her seat back and she's going to have to talk to him to get it back. So she decides to just bite the bullet. He doesn't really look like he wants company, she decides to give him some. In fact, he looks more like he's brooding over there than anything, she smirks, thinking the bagel and coffee must not have been enough amending for 'Sammy'.

She walks over, daintily balanced on another pair of beloved high heels and sighs deeply as she settles in the comfy chair right beside his. She drops her bag on the floor at her feet and sets her coffee on the side table beside the chair...not the same one that his sits on. She begins to unwrap her bagel before he turns to look at her.

"Can I help you?" He asks, eyebrow raised on one side sardonically.

She smiles, "You're in my seat." She says simply.

He stares for a moment. "I didn't see a sign," he says gruffly.

She snorts a laugh, "No, there's not one, but you're currently sitting in the best seat in the house, so forgive me if I just come and sit in the second best."

He looks at her carefully for a moment, trying to decide if she's serious or not, and then purses his lips when he sees that she is and intends on staying. "Whatever," he sighs, sitting back and staring out the window moodily.

Oh yeah, he was totally here brooding.

She tears a small piece off her bagel and pops it in her mouth washing it down with a sip of her cappuccino and looks out the window too. After all this was her seat, she had patented the looking out the window and watching the street come to life thing. After a minute or two he turns back around to look at her and she meets is eyes straight in. She would have smirked at the way his bright green eyes sparkled with annoyance if she wasn't trying to keep her poker face.

"Really?" He questions, sounding sarcastic, and a Kansas twang definitely seeping through with his annoyance.

"Really what?" She asks. Getting annoyed herself that this man had come in here and stollen her seat two mornings in a row, and then gets pissy with her when she just wants to sit in the seat beside him.

"You know what?" He huffs, gathering his phone and wallet, "I was just leaving anyways." He stands, pocketing his stuff and grabbing his coffee.

"Oh, well, okay." She says, trying her best to look remorseful. As soon as his back is turned she rises and brushes out his seat, or her seat, whatever, and sits down, placing her purse in the chair she just vacated and placing her coffee on her rightful side table. She crosses her legs and sighs contentedly. She can feel the stranger staring at her. She looks up at him, across the room, trying desperately to keep her own smug look off her face.

However, as he's walking out the door looking at her with a thunderous frown on his brow, she can't stop herself from waving goodbye to him. He was much better looking happy and content yesterday morning, and frankly, with his brooding she's glad she got rid of him.

As she settles in her chair she smiles, thinking all is back to normal. Maybe he won't come back anymore, still for the sake of argument she'll start coming to the coffee shop earlier, just to ensure she gets her seat.

Fate is on her side for once, she doesn't see the handsome, gruff stranger again...for awhile at least.

...

Moving into the bunker in Lebanon is possibly the best thing that has ever happened to Dean Winchester in all his life. Not only does it give him the security of having a home, but it gives him a sense of belonging he never had before. For once he was sticking around one place and familiarizing himself with the locals, hunting down the best restaurants and bars.

He'd discovered the gem of a coffee shop one late night roaming the down town streets of Lebanon during the time when Sam had alienated him. He'd made a habit of wandering into the corner coffee shop on late night and enjoy the quiet and low lighting. (He'd never admit he enjoyed the coffee shop blend radio that played in the back ground.)

After Sam pumped him full of purified blood and Dean had tried to off his brother, things calmed down enough to give Dean some alone time again. Granted, Sam hovered...a lot. Dean barely got away. He started slipping away early in the morning before Sam showed himself. He remembered his peaceful times in the corner coffee shop down town and found himself going there.

The seat he always loved to sit in was vacant so he ordered himself a coffee, plain black, and sat down there, staring out the window, watching the sun start the day with its rising. The second customer was a woman, who just barely escaped looking like a girl because of her soulful eyes, deep soft voice, and dark, long, loose curls.

Dean thought she looked like someone who had been through more than she deserved, looked like she had fought hard to be the vision of calm perfection she was this morning. She sends a peeved look his way but says nothing when she takes another seat. Thoughts take over his conscience, he doesn't pay her any mind until she rises a half hour later and stands waiting for a to-go coffee. The barista seems to know her, she gives him a quiet smile. Dean decides he likes her.

Who wouldn't? She was pretty, more like a quiet, animating beauty haloed around her. She didn't have the most killer body he'd ever seen either. She wasn't particularly tall, her shapely foot tapped on the floor in her classy looking high heel. Her legs were slender, disappearing into the tasteful skirt, heels making the most of her calves. She was wrapped up in a dark coat, but from what Dean could make out she was dressed modestly and classy for business. In other words she was way out of his league.

He watches her go, soothing Sam on the other end of the phone, who was nearly frantic from having woken up to find him gone. She leaves him behind with a sense of awe and peace he's not used to having. He wonders how she managed to make such an impression out of herself when she hardly spoke more than ten words the whole time she was there AND was dressed respectively. All in all she wasn't the type of woman Dean was used to associating with.

She's gone when he turns around from ordering Sam's coffee and bagel. He doesn't think about her again.

Until the next morning.

Once again he was the first customer in the coffee shop. He sits brooding over his coffee, yesterday not having been the best. Sam had been understandably worried, but Dean thought it a little unreasonable for it to result in the rest of the day being miserable. He had to get away from Sam's hovering. Mother-henning was one hing, but a pissed off mother hen, that was a million times worse. So Dean escaped again, before Sam woke up and sat moodily in the coffee shop, looking out the window.

That's when she walks in again. Calmness and serenity following her, filling the room as she orders her morning coffee and pastry. Dean feels her heated glare rest on him, and what the hell, why was he pissing everybody off? Why was everybody being pissy with him? He hadn't done anything wrong. It wasn't his fault he turned into a demon...well, okay...hadn't been he's immediate choice.

And he's sorry if chick doesn't like him in the coffee shop, but he's got just as much right to be there as she does. And honestly, he'd hoped a little bit to see her again, she made a fascinating study to try and work out. So he watches her out of the corner of his eye until he catches her looking at him, and then sends her a millisecond smirk. He can feel the change that comes over her, calm serenity replaced with some kind of righteous anger vibe that made the air snap with energy.

Before he knows it she sits in the seat beside him, places her bag by her feet and crosses those legs quaintly. She sits her coffee on the table beside her and then calmly opens her bakery bag and begins to eat her breakfast.

Dean's a nice guy, but frankly he's feeling a little pissed this morning and definitely not like company. And if he told the truth he was a little intimidated by her. With her quiet, confident ways, she was everything he wasn't. He was insecure, and made up for it by being loud and sarcastic. He turned to her, and regarded her serene profile shrewdly.

He lifts an eyebrow, "Can I help you?" He asks, knowing he sounds a little rude.

"You're in my seat," she returns just as calmly as she looks up at him with smiling but underneath, accusing eyes.

"I didn't see a sign," he shoots back sharply.

She huffs a laugh, and Dean decides he like the way the laugh kind of sings out of her white throat and makes her eyes sparkle. He also recognizes her as a fellow cryptic when his rude tone obviously makes her left eyebrow bend upwards, but she doesn't allow herself to be offended by something so trivial, instead she laughs at him.

Dean likes her even more.

"No, there's not one, but you're currently sitting in the best seat in the house, so forgive me if I just come and sit in the second best." The sarcastic politeness underlying her light tone is biting. He leans back in his seat, staring out the window.

How did he manage to piss off one of the most extraordinary women he's ever met, and how in hell was he sitting here without a witty reply? Of all the women to come and sit beside him, it had to be her. All quiet confidence and everything he wasn't, everything he knew nothing about, and didn't understand. Everything about her screamed at him what he should be, he found the mark on his arm on a low burn, he was angry.

He turns to look at her and studies her face for a moment and it just confirms what he thinks. She's entirely unperturbed, after all it had been her bright idea to come over here and provoke him. If the mark wasn't burning with his anger Dean thinks he'd probably be flirting with her right now. Instead all he can come up with is, "Really?"

Why did she have to do it? Provoke him, aggravate him, tickle the itch, awaken the burn. Any other time Dean would have found it amusing, even like she was coming on a little strong. Now he was pissed off, and burning and restless with the way the mark took advantage of his annoyance.

"Really what?" She asks, looking a little annoyed now too, which makes him feel better.

"You know what?" He hastily sweeps up his stuff and stands, shoving them in his pocket, he grabs his coffee. "I was just leaving anyways."

He swears he sees her face light up. Instead she says, sounding majorly sarcastically sad, "Oh, well, okay."

He's not walked away from her more than five seconds before he turns around finds her brushing out the chair he'd vacated and sitting down in it smugly. She situates herself primly and then looks back up to him, he's not comforted by the way she seems to be a gracious winner. He realizes now that's what the entire episode had been about, getting her seat back. She looks for all the world sincerely happy.

He walks out the door looking over his shoulder to find her smirking at him and giving him a condescending wave. He leaves thinking she's the most infuriating woman he's ever met and perhaps the most beautiful.

It's months before he makes his way back.

...

Present Day.

Sam hadn't seen his brother in over twelve hours. They'd eaten a late lunch together at about three p.m. yesterday and then Dean had left at about five, Sam had sleepily heard him come in at some outrageous hour, his brother cracking his door open as if he was checking if he was still there before he headed off to bed. Dean closed his bedroom door behind him and Sam listened to his receding footsteps going off towards his bedroom, he hears the door shut and then he drifts off to sleep feeling much more relaxed now he knew Dean was safe home.

He wakes slowly, yawning as he rolls over to check the time on his phone. Eight o'clock, Dean wasn't awake yet. Probably wouldn't be for a couple of hours. They weren't working a case and both the boys had learned how to sleep in over the past few quieter months.

Sam can't believe that almost a year has passed since they defeated the darkness. And the less stressful months had been kind to them. When Sam stands, getting out of bed, he doesn't have any aches or pains. If anything he feels invigorated and ready for the day. He's also feeling like pancakes and bacon.

He lazily makes his way down the hall to peer in on Dean. In the dark of his room all he can make out is twisted sheets and blankets, in the midst of which is a lump.

"Dean, you awake?" He asks, voice still a little slurred with sleep. "I was thinking about making some pancakes, you wanna come help?" He gets no answer, so he just rubs his eyes and yawns again with a sigh, "Okay, whatever. See you in a bit."

He shuts the door behind him and pads down the hallway into the kitchen. He reaches to switch on the light but stops in his tracks blinking in the bright fluorescents already on. Dean stands awake and fully dressed stirring something in a bowl. Sam can smell the distinct smell of bacon and can hear it sizzling on the stovetop. If the heating skillet is anything to go by Dean got his vibe about pancakes too.

He stands looking confusedly between the door and Dean trying to figure out what he saw in Dean's bedroom if Dean hadn't been there at all.

"Good morning, Sammy!" He's greeted brightly. His older brother gives him a sharp look, "Everything okay?"

"I coulda sworn you..." Sam looks back down the hall towards Dean's bedroom.

Dean raises an eyebrow, "Coulda sworn what?"

Sam shakes his head and runs fingers through his hair, wandering deeper into the kitchen and looking over Dean's shoulder. "It's nothing, just thought you were still in bed, just had a whole conversation with you."

Dean shoots Sam a serious look, "Don't tell be that bed's started talking to you too."

Sam looks up worried, "What?" He asks sharply.

Dean laughs, "Just kidding Sammy, my bed doesn't talk to me, though sometimes it does call to me." He sighs, and Sam rolls his eyes and laughs.

"Okay Dean, but I'm pretty sure you two get enough alone time these days."

"You're telling me," Dean says, yawning and stretching with the spatula in hand, "I sleep so good these days."

"Same here," Sam agrees.

"Why don't you go get dressed while I finish this up?" Dean says motioning to the skillet where he's about to pour pancake batter.

Sam nods and walks out of the kitchen. He heads back to Dean's room though. He could have sworn he'd seen some movement amidst the covers. Maybe the bed really was possessed, and Dean just assumed he was dreaming the bed talked to him.

He opens up his brother's door, switches on the light...and freezes.

In the middle of Dean's bed lays a woman, curled up on her side, a hand tucked up under her cheek where it lays against the pillow. Face white and relaxed, she looks more like a girl sleeping there with long brown curls stretched out on the pillows behind her. One of Dean's soft flannel, plaid shirts is buttoned up around her, fitting loosely on her smaller frame. Thigh high knit socks is all she wears on her legs which are peeking out from under the blankets.

Sam is entirely blind-sided.

She frowns at the bright light and buries her face deeper in the pillows whimpering a little under her breath. She curls up tighter in on herself, drawing her legs back up into the safety and warmth of the blankets. Sam has to say, for a second before the reality of the situation comes upon him fully, he is enchanted by her.

He turns the light back off and shuts the door behind him quietly. Dean Winchester has an awful lot of explaining to do.

tbc...

Okay guys, so what do y'all think? Keep going?

PLEASE REVIEW! ;)

thank you


	3. Chapter 2

Chapter 2.

Flashback.

Months have passed. She carries on the same as always, only she falls in love with life a little more everyday. She gets to know more people in the community, she even goes to a few Christmas parties, has champagne with the neighbors and some of their friends on the New Years. Even though she's making a place for herself, sometimes she feels like she doesn't quite fit in. But then, when has she every truly belonged?

It's a chilly February morning. She wakes with the heater in her bedroom going full blast, and shivers a little just thinking of going out. She gets out of bed and jumps into her shower using the hottest water. She comes out, using her towel to rub the steam out of her mirror, so she can begin to apply make up and curl her hair.

She pulls on a pair of black tights to help fight the cold and a straight black skirt that falls just above her knees, it goes on top of the tights. Then a black and white striped sweater that she tucks into the skirt and slips a black belt into the belt loops on her skirt. A green linen scarf goes tied around her neck setting off her outfit perfectly, she thinks.

She makes up her bed and then sits down on it to slip her feet in black high heeled booties, zipping up the sides. At the front door she wraps her thick coat around her, buttoning it up all the way, and slipping her hands into her black leather gloves before grabbing her umbrella. She pets the cat one last time before heading out.

She shivers in the freezing wind as she locks her door under the protection of her little porch roof. That done she pops open the umbrella and sweeps her hair over her shoulder to ensure it won't get wet. She makes her way down the wet sidewalk, holding the red umbrella against the wind so the rain isn't swept onto her from under it.

She sighs with thankfulness as she reaches the coffee shop and hurries inside, closing the umbrella after her and setting it down by the door where it can dry. She shivers a little and smiles at Warren, a fairly new barista who makes a good peppermint mocha, which they've been carrying over from Christmas.

She orders the drink and picks a plain bagel to go with her sweet coffee. She carries them over to her side table and chair. Sitting, she opens the brown paper bag and places the bagel on top of it. She sips the hot, sweet liquid looking out the window watching the rain fall and run down the sidewalk. The weather hadn't been the greatest lately, but she still enjoys going out in the cold, being apart of the bustle and business that's make up Lebanon.

She opens her bag and pulls out her phone, going over her schedule. She had a meeting later on with a private collector who was selling and perhaps buying some first edition books. That was probably her favorite part of the business that had been passed done to her from her grandfather. Going out and finding the priceless first editions of all the beloved stories.

She sighs again, shooting off a text to confirm their meeting time, and sits back in her seat gazing out the window again. She's putting the last of her bagel in her mouth, when someone sits in the seat beside her. When she turns to see who it is, she's met with a vibrant pair of emerald eyes. She doesn't need to worry about not smiling to hide how pleased she is to see him again because she's currently trying to catch her breath again.

"You're in my seat," his gravely bass voice says to her and she finds herself laughing as she turns towards him.

She raises an eyebrow, "I didn't see a sign."

He laughs and leans back in the seat sipping from his coffee. She sits back too, and picks up her coffee, holding it in her hands.

"So, haven't seen you in here since, well, since the last time." She says, laughing a little again.

He nods, "Yeah, haven't really had the time lately," a dark look passes over his face, but then he looks up at her and smiles again. So she smiles too, softer, she knows that look, the look of remembering rough times. "Things are better now though."

She nods understandingly. And silence sits just a little awkwardly between them. She consults her watch and finds her coffee time is up. She begins to pack up, slipping her phone back into her bag and folding up the brown paper bag and places it inside her empty coffee cup.

"Going already?" He asks, watching her carefully.

She nods, "Almost time for work...but it was nice seeing you again."

He looks surprised, "What?" He asks, "No biting sarcasm?"

She laughs and he stands up as she does, "I'm Dean, by the way, Dean Winchester." He holds out his hand.

She accepts it smiling, liking the way his big, calloused hand feels around her small, softer one.

"Iris, Iris Aarons." She returns, as he shakes her hand.

"Well, Ms Iris Aarons," he's looking bashful and she thinks it's probably an unusual look for him. "I know I was rude before, but what would you say if I asked you if you might want to go out sometime?"

She wants to say yes, she really wants to say yes. But that would be breaking her rules and the reason she's still alive and happy in this new life is because she has followed her rules.

"Well Mr. Dean Winchester," she said smiling genuinely at him, drawing her hand slowly out of his where he's attempting to hold on to it. "I'd say you know where to find me, same place every morning."

She smiles and takes the plain black coffee Warren already has ready and waiting for her. She leaves Dean Winchester standing staring after her as she opens her umbrella and crosses the street, disappearing into the little shop across the street.

...

The mark of Cain was gone. The relief Dean felt was unreal. And as they tried to figure out a way to locate the darkness, let alone kill her, Sam and Dean had a chance to catch their breath. Sam went through spurts of researching, sometimes he wanted to hunt, sometimes he wanted just sit inside and research. It was during one of these times Dean left him to have some one on one time with the library and slipped out to return to his little coffee shop.

He jogged through the rain from the impala and slipped in the door, shaking the drops of rain off his shoulders, and shivering to gain some warmth. He looks around and there she sits. Legs crossed like before, still managing to be purely serene and beautiful even without sun light streaming in and illuminating the halo around her.

He orders a plain black coffee, watching her all the time...the barista is laughing at him he's sure. He can't help himself so he walks over and sits down. He knows she senses him behind her, she turns and Dean sincerely hope he's not the only whose breath caught when their eyes meet.

He's suddenly drowning in pools of warm brown, and he's very sure he wants to make more of this 'thing' he's feeling. It's not a (only) sexual pull for once, she fascinates him, her calm beauty just adds to the appeal of her peace and calm.

"You're in my seat."

He lets the only thing in his mind slip out and bites his tongue waiting for the annoyance to surface he'd born the last time he'd seen her. Instead his breath is stollen from him again as her lips bend and her entire face blooms with her smile. Her laugh is lighter and more sincere than the last and only time he heard her, he finds himself smiling too.

"I didn't see a sign," she returns, eyebrows arching, wisely. He laughs too, and leans back in his seat sipping on the hot brew in his cup.

"So, haven't seen you in here, since, well since the last time." She laughs again, and Dean finds his lips bending upwards just at the sound of it.

"Yeah, haven't really had the time lately." He pauses, thinking over the past six months. Him and Sam had been run ragged by the darkness, but it had been worth it defeating her. He smiles up at her, seeing she recognized the look pain on his face. "Things are better now though," he says softer, smiling.

The silence stretches between them. Dean is watching her. The way she slips her phone into her handbag, folds the brown bakery bag and slips it to her cup both ready for the garbage can. She is so precise and perfect but manages to be so without being stuffy. Her constance is soothing, Dean finds himself fast falling for her quiet smiles and rippling laughter. The way her eyes sparkle and her slender fingers find their way up into her hair to keep it from her face.

It finally registers with him her movements are probably leading up to her departure.

"Going already?" He asks, sincerely surprised and disappointed. He watches as she looks down and blushes.

"Almost time for work," she says, gathering the handles of her bag over her arm to hang, "But it was nice seeing you again." Dean tries not to feel flattered, she probably says that to all the people she meets.

He smirks up at her, but is surprised by her sincerity, "What? No biting sarcasm?"

He's rewarded with another laugh floating over his ears as she stands. He does too, hastily holding out his hand.

"I'm Dean, by the way, Dean Winchester." He's nearly blinded by that smile again as she places her small, soft hand in his. He has the disturbing thought that it feels like it belongs there.

"Iris, Iris Aarons." She introduces herself as she shakes his hand.

He can't help himself he has to ask if she would have dinner with him. He supposed he shouldn't be surprised when she pulls her hand out of his and he know she's going to turn him down. But then she's smiling coyly at him, telling him he knows where to find her every morning. And it's not a date, but it wasn't a dead set no. And that he can work with.

He watches her walk away and manages to smother the stupid smile on his face. He watches her cross the street and disappear into a shop across the street.

Iris, that was her name. Finally a name to go with the face, and he honestly couldn't have thought of a better one himself. Iris Aarons might as well have been Lois Lane, he thought it was a beautiful name.

He left the shop and made a dash for the impala through the rain, and made his way home to Sam. He knew where he would be the next morning.

...

Present Day.

"Dean, there is a girl in your bed." Sam states, standing in the kitchen door, eyebrows raised, hands on his hips. He's sure the bitch face he's giving his older brother right now would pucker a lemon.

Dean looks up just a touch too quickly from where he's leaning over his phone, waiting to flip the pancakes on the skillet. Sam is waiting for an answer.

"There's a girl in my bed?" Dean repeats, looking honestly puzzled.

Sam purses his lips and gives Dean an even harder look.

"Dude, maybe that thing really is possessed."

Sam glares at him and then walks into the kitchen grabbing him above the elbow and tugs him out of the room.

"C'mon, I'll show you," he says. Dean comes unwillingly, looking over his shoulder at his pancakes.

"Dean, how could you bring a woman to the bunker?" Sam hisses, being quieter as they near Dean's bedroom door.

"Sam, I don't know what you're talking about, okay? I didn't bring any girl home, there's no way I could. 'Hey so, wanna come over and let me screw you in the WWII bunker I live in?' That would go real well Einstein." Dean grumbles as Sam nearly drags him the rest of the way down the hall.

Sam opens the door and flips the light switch practically throwing his brother into the room. Dean walks to his EMPTY bed patting around the sheets and sifting through the blankets, he turns to look at Sam frowning.

"What the hell?" Sam says, walking into the room. "Dean, she was here, I swear. Stop messing with me and tell me the truth!"

Dean chuckles and sits down on his bed. "Maybe my bed's taking on a personality of its own after all it is the second most important thing to me, and you know sometimes I can hear Baby talking to me."

Sam groans with a hand on his forehead, "Please don't tell me that, Dean." Then he grits out, "She. Was. There. I. Saw. Her."

Dean holds up his hands appeasingly, "Hey man, I'm not saying you didn't see her, I'm just saying she's not here now, you know?" He turns off his light and shuts the door behind them as they head back to the kitchen.

He gets back to his pancakes just in time, finding them just a little too done. He frowns at Sam like its his fault. Sam makes a face back.

"Sammy, chill out," he says, plating up bacon and pancakes. He pours orange juice into whiskey glasses, and coffee into their tea cups. He sets both in front of Sam who is already shoveling in his breakfast. "If it's something dangerous, we'll figure it out, and if it's not well, we'll figure it out then too. Maybe you just needed your caffeine."

Sam shoots him a poisonous look.

Dean holds up his hands again, "Okay, okay, not just seeing things."

"Dean, I know what I saw, she freaking moved when I turned on the light, she was real."

Sam could have sworn he heard a sound echo through the bunker. He cocks his head to one side listening carefully, but all is quiet.

Dean just frowns, and takes a bite of pancake followed by a bite of bacon. Then he smiles around both.

Sam rolls his eyes and points his fork at his brother, "We're not done talking about this."

Dean copies Sam's eye roll but tucks into his breakfast, seemingly without a care in the world.

...

It's somewhere around four in the afternoon, when Sam walks into the library where he'd left his brother a few hours ago. His hair is still wet from his shower after his run and work out, he's feeling comfortably tired now in his favorite jeans and t-shirt, he wondering if his brother would like to do a movie or something tonight.

The library is empty. It's perfectly clean, which is no surprise. Sam walks in and looks around for Dean.

"Dean?" He yells, "You here?"

Silence is all that answers him. He sighs, seeing a slip off paper on the end desk. He slides it over in front of him so he can see it.

'Sammy, going out, see you later.'

Sam huffs in annoyance and rolls his eyes, "Thanks Dean, so helpful," he mumbles. He sighs, leaning over the desk and sliding his laptop over to him where Dean had placed it perfectly symmetrical before he left. He's about to take it with him into his room so he can look through police reports while he watches Netflix when his phone rings in his back pocket.

He looks at the caller ID and doesn't recognize the number, but it's a cell phone number so he answers it.

"Hello," He says, a little cautiously.

"Hello?" comes a timid voice. A little deep but pleasant, definitely feminine. "Is, is this Sam Winchester?" He catches the tremor in the voice, she sounds scared and desperate.

"Yes," he answers, "Who is this," he asks sharply, "How did you get this number?"

"Um," she stammers, "M, my name's Iris Aarons, Dean told me to call this number if I was ever in trouble and couldn't reach him."

Sam doesn't know if he's relieved or worried by the fact Dean gave this woman his number. He takes a deep breath, heading to his room for his coat and wallet.

"Okay what's your trouble?" He asks.

"D, demons, four or five, I didn't even seem them coming...I th, th..."

"Iris," Sam interrupts, heading for the garage. "Where are the demons? There WERE four or five, or ARE there four or five?"

"N, no," she stutters out sounding like she's shivering hard, Sam thinks it sounds a lot like shock. "The demons are taken care of."

He unlocks one of the bunker cars Dean had fixed up just in case one of them needed to go out when the other was somewhere with the impala.

"Okay, where are you, can you give me an address?"

"Um, yeah..." He hears a airy breath escape form her lungs, and he's scared if he doesn't get to her fast it might be too late, she sounds hurt. And for a girl who took out four or five demons without bothering to count them properly, sounding hurt probably meant she was hurt pretty bad.

"Uh, it's 500 Old Domain, Lebanon." Her voice wears some grit as Sam assumes the pain heightens.

Sam raises his eyebrows backing out of the garage, she was close. Who the hell did Dean even know in Lebanon, let alone by the name Iris? Could this be a trap? This girl sounded legit. But was she?

"How do I know you're telling the truth?" He asks sharply, heading towards town.

He hears a shuddering breath in the other end, "Dean said, said to tell you the safe word was uh, uhm, 'Poughkeepsie'."

Sam's heart freezes. Dean wouldn't tell just anyone that. This was someone Dean knew and trusted, someone who was in trouble.

"Alright," he says. "I'm coming, I'm on my way."

"Thank you," she gasps.

"Stay right where you are, okay?" He tells her, "Don't move, I'm coming to get you, alright?"

"Yeah," she says airily.

"Please hurry," he hears faintly as the line goes dead.

tbc...

Some good old fashioned hurt!dean coming our way next chapter!

PLEASE REVIEW! ;)

thank you


	4. Chapter 3

Chapter 3.

Flashback.

The weather changed favorable from the day before. Iris stands before her kitchen window looking at the sun beginning to rise and smiles. She was already dressed, the cat had been fed, and was lapping up its milk contentedly. She was starting the dishwasher from her supper dishes the night before, but really she was stalling so she would be a touch later than usual getting to the coffee shop.

She really, REALLY hoped Dean Winchester would be there, and if he wasn't then being late would help assuage her pride. And if he was there...well, it never hurt any man to sweat. So a few minutes later than usual Iris pets the cat and locks the door behind her.

She makes herself walk at her usual pace. She takes time to notice how the wet and dreariness from the day before has dissipated and the sunlight reflects off the ice on the sidewalk and road where the rain had frozen over night. The sky is clear and vibrant blue, a few birds are out and about and singing, their songs echoing through the clear, cold air.

Iris smiles to herself breathing in deep, clear, crisp lungfuls of it. It was a beautiful morning, with or without Dean Winchester. The bell rings over her head as she steps into the coffee shop and she's surrounded with the warmth inside. She shivers trying to generate some warmth and sighs contentedly as she smells the fresh baked goods and coffee beans.

Owen is there again, must be working double time this week, and waves to her. She smiles and waves back looking over the warming cases for the pastry of the morning.

"Iris!" She hears his rough, deep voice call. Her head jerks towards the direction of the sound and finds Dean sitting in the seat he'd sat in beside her yesterday morning. Her seat is vacant and a steaming cup of coffee and little brown paper bakery bag is sitting on the side table.

Dean motions her over, so she does a little hesitantly.

"C'mon," he says smiling, "I don't bite, thought we established that yesterday?"

Iris smirks and laughs a little.

"Here, sit down," he says, "I saved your seat."

She does, placing her bag on the floor like always. She sighs deeply after she's settled, smiling at him, while brushing hair from her face and pulling it back off her shoulders.

He waves to the little side table, "Got you a 'caramel macchiato with an extra shot of espresso and a chocolate chip muffin' Owen swore it was your favorite." He's looking a little uneasy and questioning.

"Oh yeah, that's perfect, definitely my favorite." She smiles, while sending a little glare to Owen who just shrugs a little helplessly.

"How did you get Owen to comply? He looks a little traumatized," she gives Dean a reproving look, "Did you pay him off?"

Dean chuckles, a new sound from him, it's a little cold, not like the laughs she gets from him, which are warm and full bodied, she decides she likes those much better.

"I just asked him nicely," Dean says smiling at her, sipping his own steaming cup.

"What are you having?" She asks, taking the lid off her coffee cup and letting the warm sweet smelling steam waft up into her face where it's warm on her skin and fills her nose with the best smell in the world.

"Oh, just a plain cup of joe, and a chocolate chip muffin like you."

"Black coffee?" She asks, opening up her bag with the muffin in it.

He nods, "Never been one for the very sweet drinks."

"I like it black if I'm not having a specialty coffee, but I guess I've always had a really bad sweet tooth." She sips on the overly sweet coffee, washing down the chocolate muffin.

"I love sweets," Dean says, eyes getting huge, "Pie especially, there's this place in town..."

"The bakery on Old Main Street?" She asks, eyes getting equally as big.

He nods, "Man, I love that place, their pecan pie is..." Dean doesn't seem to be able to think of a word that's appropriate enough as he shrugs, "...Out of this world."

She laughs at his enthusiasm. "Have your ever tried their dark chocolate brownies with the raspberry sauce?" She can see by the look on his face he's probably never even entertained the thought of trying something different than pie.

"Oh my god, Dean!" She says, laughing at him unbelievingly. "And you call yourself a desert lover?" She takes another sip of coffee, "You have to try it."

He's giving her a kind of glazed over look, and she's wondering if she said something wrong but she's quickly reassured when he slides forwards on his seat.

"Come with me tonight?" He asks in a hushed voice. He must see the way her brain comes to a screeching halt at the words, 'Come with ME, TONIGHT.'

He shuts is eyes tight and shakes his head, opening them again and then laughing nervously as he lays a hand on her arm. "Not like that, God, to the bakery. Would you like to go to the bakery with me tonight?"

He's waiting for her answer with bated breath. And she can't think of a better idea. She so tired of going places by herself, just taking care of herself, always buying and trying things that sound good to her. Honestly, she'd never even considered the pecan pie in the bakery on Old Main. She wants someone by her side as she walks down the sidewalk and looks in the windows of the downtown shops. Someone to tell her thoughts to, someone who seems to want to hear them.

She thinks maybe Dean's a little lonely too. Surely just going to the bakery wouldn't hurt...Dean wouldn't hurt her, she had a gut feeling about this man, and besides it wasn't like she couldn't defend herself.

She chews on her lip for a moment and then, "Okay, let's go."

She thinks Dean might catapult from his seat and do a happy dance, she laughs at his face.

"What do you say seven o'clock?" She asks, eating the last bite of her muffin.

Des holds up his hands, "Hold your horses, this is my date."

She shakes her head at him and laughs.

He smooths down the lapels of his coat and runs fingers through his hair, pushing it up. Then he fixes her with a cocky grin.

"Seven o'clock, Ms. Aarons?" He asks.

"Iris, please," she laughs.

His smile broadens at her laugh. "Only if you call me Dean."

"Alright," she says, holding out her hands placatingly. "Seven o'clock then, Dean."

His smile is almost blinding, "You wanna meet there, or can I pick you up somewhere...?"

She smiles at his attempt of consideration. "If you could pick me up that would be awesome."

"Yeah sure, where?" He asks, pulling out his phone to save the address.

She laughs pointing across the street at her little shop. "Right there actually, where I work." She says to his questioning look.

"Alright awesome," he says, that smile gracing his lips again, and she feels amazing for having put it there. "Is there a number where I can reach you, you know just in case something comes up?"

She frowns, only half sincere, "Just in case?" One of her eyebrows arcs wisely. Something Dean is learning he loves about her.

He nods looking as sincere as he can. She shakes her head at him, and takes his phone entering her number under the name of 'Iris'. Dean smiles when he sees she listed just her first name. He squeezes her hand when they say goodbye and Iris is glad she's already walking away when he shoots her one last happy grin otherwise he'd probably have had to catch her as she fell.

...

Present Day.

When Sam turns onto Old Domain Street in Lebanon he's firstly surprised by how nice the neighborhood is and secondly how quiet everything is. There's no sign of any recent ruckus. He drives slowly down the street looking carefully all around, there is no sign of anything supernatural or of direst.

He's beginning to hope things weren't as big as he'd been afraid of, and maybe the woman really had taken care of all of the demons. That just left her afraid and hurt somewhere by the sound of her voice over the phone, so he steps on the gas a little.

He watches the house numbers slowly make their way up, waiting for 500 to come into sight. But it's not the house or the house number that catches his full attention. It's the impala, sitting sleek and pretty in front of 500, Old Domain, a quaint, little house with a wreath hanging on a navy blue door.

What the hell?

Maybe Iris Aarons had finally got in touch with Dean...maybe this had been a trap all along. Maybe the demons already had Dean and werenow using him to entrap Sam too. He grits his teeth with indecision. He pulls out his phone and speed dials his brother, using his shoulder to hold it to his ear as he checks the clip in his gun.

His brother's phone goes to voice mail like it has been for the past thirty minutes. Something is wrong. He's sure now. Sam slips out of the car which he parks a little way up the road and walks into the shadows of the other houses and into the little yard of 500, Old Domain.

The door is ajar, though barely. Sam jerks his gun from the back of his jeans and holds it close and down against his thigh as he pushes the door open enough for him to slip in. He silently closes the door behind him. Gun raised, he slips around the corner and into the living room area, clean, though a little cramped, it was a small house.

The living room was empty, so was a small dining room in the front of the house. He inches down a hallway, pointing his gun through a door which led to a laundry room which was also empty, except for a cat, whose bright gleaming eyes nearly scare the crap out of him.

That was when he heard sounds.

Soft footsteps, water running, a voice humming.

He creeps up to the case opening that leads into the kitchen, if he isn't wrong. With his back against the wall he listens for a few breathless moments. It sounded like someone was making some coffee and maybe boiling some water. He takes a chance and peers around the corner.

The kitchen only has one occupant. A woman standing in front of the sink in jeans and a plaid shirt. The same plaid shirt Sam had seen on the mysterious woman in Dean's bed that morning. He tucks his gun back into the waist band of his jeans, and breathes deep before he rushes into the kitchen, grabs the girl by her arms, turns her swiftly and slams her into the opposite wall.

She gasps, but doesn't fight back as Sam expected. Her long brown hair obscures most of her face, but not the big, scared brown eyes staring up at him from a white, white face. He lets her go and whips out his gun, bringing it up to point at her. Then she lets out a scream, holding her hands up in front of her defensively.

"Where is he?!" Sam demands, his other hand pushing her roughly back against the wall again. She presses herself backwards taking in sobbing breaths, shaking, eyes jumping from his face to the gun in his hand. "Where is Dean?! Where is he?!" He gives her a shake accordingly with every question.

Her hand turns to point shakily towards the door on the other side of the kitchen. Sam growls deep in his throat and gives her one last glare as he disappears through the door in a millisecond. She lets herself slid down the wall to the floor where she tries to gasp in breaths and stop the tears.

Sam goes through the door gun raised, the first room he enters is nearly bare except for some boxes. The next room he opens the door to and quickly steps in, gun raised. All is quiet, but the sight that meets him nearly causes his heart to stop beating all together.

Dean lays on the bed which is the center piece of furtive in the room, sitting between the two windows. His brother is on his back, face marked up considerably, blood covering those beloved features. His right sleeve has been shredded by something, the dark materiel is darker still, wet with blood. Sam approaches the bed cautiously, looking around for any threats and finds none.

His fingers immediately peel the material away from his brother's arm. The skin and wound is wet with blood, but Sam's glad to find it looks like a clean, shallow scratch probably made with a knife, judging by the state of Dean's sleeve. He leans forward cupping the side of Dean's face with his hand, his thumb brushing over his left cheek bone lightly where he'd been hit so hard the skin had split. His black eye literally shone, earning it the name 'a shiner'.

Gentle fingers run over the right side of his head, through blood matted hair, to find a cut just beyond his hair line. Sam guesses thus the unconsciousness. His hands flutter down his sides searching for broken ribs and down his legs for any other wounds. When he gets to his socked feet Sam stops in surprise.

His brother's boots have been removed and are beside the bed on the floor obviously having been set there. Iris Aarons wasn't the culprit here, or the demon slayer. Dean had obviously been helping her when he'd gotten hurt. She had moved him here and then called for Sam to help since she didn't know what to do.

Sam's a little pissed Dean would work any case without him, especially with some girl Sam knew nothing about...and that Dean had invited her into the bunker. Who was this chick? How did she know Dean? What was his brother doing running around only god knows where with her?

The floor creaks behind him and Sam's head jerks up to find Iris standing in the doorway. Her eyes flit nervously from his face to Dean to the floor. When Sam gives no immediate reaction she enters the room, walking to the other side of the bed. She wraps her arms around herself, and looks down on his brother's face.

"Is he gonna be alright?" She asks, in a low voice, that still shakes a little.

"He's had worse," Sam returns, voice quieter now, afraid she'll bolt after he attacked her in the kitchen. "Can you tell me exactly what happened to his head?"

"It was the butt of his gun, I think, they took it from him." She shivers and sits done on the edge of the bed.

Sam raises his eyebrows, sounds like things had gotten a little hairy. Cutting it a little close there brother, he thinks, looking over Dean's face.

"Are you sure he's gonna be okay? How about the arm?" She asks.

"I'm not sure, I don't think it needs any stitches though, probably just bled like a bitch." Sam leans over and rolls the sleeve of Dean's jacket and plaid shirt up to his elbow. There was a long cut in his arm, but like Sam expected it was shallow and just needed to be wrapped up.

Sam looked back up to find Iris looking at Dean's face. When she realizes Sam is watching her, she lets their eyes meet momentarily before she's looking away again. "I, I, I didn't know what to do when he passed out, I was scared, so I called you." She says, looking away to the side trying to hide the way tears glistened in her warm brown eyes.

Sam's suspicion is replaced with curiosity, plain and simple. "Thank you, for calling me," he says smiling, softly.

She clears her throat, "Uhm, I took a look at his head, it doesn't need stitches but maybe a couple of butterfly bandages, I'll go to the impala and get the first aide kit."

Sam raises his eyebrows in surprise.

"There's wash cloths in the bathroom closet and I'm heating some water, I made some coffee too, if you want." She says as she's going out the door, pulling Dean's keys from her back pocket. Sam supposes that makes sense since she would have had to drive them back here, and somehow manage to get Dean inside and up on her bed, assuming this was her house.

Sam grabs a few cloths from the bathroom and pours the hot water form the pot into a bowl he finds on the counter. He carries them into the bedroom and sits them on the bedside table. He gingerly sits Dean up so he's leaning against him and pulls his jacket off followed by his over shirt. Sam leans him back gently, making sure he doesn't lay on the hurt side of his head, and then tosses the ruined clothes to the floor.

Sam soaks one of the wash cloths in the hot water and begins to clean the blood away from his brother's skin, and squeezing it so the water runs out and over the cut. A few minutes of concentrated work Sam is rewarded by a clean arm and wound. It's not nearly as bad as he'd thought, the blood taking away the scariness of it.

Iris appears with the army green weapons bag over her shoulder and sets it down on the bed. She pulls out the box that suffices for Dean and Sam's first aide kit and hands Sam a roll of gauze as she sets aside two butterfly bandages on the bed side table.

She takes the other cloth and wets it in the bowl. She wipes the blood and sweat from Dean's face. Sam is surprised at the level of ease and tenderness in her touch and look as she does it. He's keeping his eye on her as he wraps Dean's arm gauze. She takes her time, and then moves from his face to his head, cleaning the blood form his scalp and hair and then gently, but with precision, applying the bandages.

Sam knows this pictures has been in it often enough. It's the fear of losing someone that makes you shake and cry and call desperately for help. It's the joy and relief at the fact that their not going anywhere that makes you care so tenderly and make all proof of the hurt disappear.

He watches Iris's fingers sweep slowly through Dean's hair pushing it back from his face. He watches as his brother turns into the touch as her fingers brush over his bruised cheek bone and down to his jaw. Sam finds her other hand where it's slipped into Dean's relaxed one. Her small hand is over the top of his, thumb pressed into his palm, rubbing soothingly. Dean's whole body shivers subtly, he turns his head towards her a little more, eyelids twitching.

It was all so smooth and subtle and gentle and loving, that Sam can't help but think there is more to this relationship then first met his eye. "What the hell?" He asks, under his breath.

Iris looks up, eyes shining and wet. "He's waking up." She says, looking back down to Dean.

Dean's lips part, he inhales sharply. Body coming back to the real world, feeling the pain. Iris shushes him, fingers going through his hair again, his eyes flutter open.

"Hey," she says softly, "Hey Dean, you with me?"

Dean gives her a sleepy smile, stretching a little, his hand turning to hold hers now.

"Hey baby," he whispers.

tbc...

IF YOU LIKE IT PLEASE REVIEW! ;)

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	5. Chapter 4

Chapter 4.

Flash Back.

Iris was buzzing with nervous energy all day long. Not even her much beloved first editions could take Dean off her mind fully. She was excited to just be doing something with someone new, to be learning about someone new. She loved to make a study of people. Dean was an interesting prospect, and not to mention, handsome. Also she was excited about riding in that car, fingers crossed that was what he drove to come get her.

Iris was a classy girl. Dressed above her actual station, lived well for her income. After all she was living by herself and ran her own business. She was constantly making a solid profit and business was looking up all the time.

But even she knew what a fine piece of machinery looked like. And Dean Winchester's vintage automobile was sleek and shone. The past two mornings she had walked past it and let her fingertips trail down its sides, while looking over her shoulder guiltily. She smiles to herself, sorting through books just thinking about climbing into the beautiful car.

Six-thirty rolls around and she finds herself in front of the mirror in her office. She thanks whatever luck she had that she had worn a presentable but casually dress that day with a belt and collar. Dean didn't seem one for dressing up too much and she didn't want to intimidate him more than she had a feeling she already did.

Her hair is up, the usual soft curls heaped on her head, a few wisps coming down around her face and neck it little curlys. A little extra mascara, a fresh application of lipstick, rubbing a little perfume on her wrists and throat...just freshening herself up after a day of work. She grabs her bag and turns off the light in her office. She locks all the doors, turns off the rest of the lights and then pulls on her coat that lays over the skirt of her dress nicely.

Perfectly graceful in her usual pair of high heels, she steps out of the shop, bag hanging off her arm as she leans in to lock the doors. Just as she finishes and straightens, there's a deep rumbling coming down the street and Dean's car rolls up in front of her shop. She smiles and waves as she walks down the steps.

He's out and opening her door smiling. "Just in time," he says, as she slips in.

She flashes him a smile through the windshield as he walks back around to get into the driver's seat. He smirks as he watches her runs her hands over the car's smooth leather seats.

"Baby's a beauty ain't she?" He asks, his smile genuinely reaching his eyes, and Iris thinks perhaps it's the most real she's seen him yet.

"I have to admit," she says, smiling herself, "I liked your car a lot sooner than I liked you."

He laughs, "Just as long as you like her, I can't complain. You don't mind a little music?"

She shrugs, "Not at all, I love music."

Dean decides he probably shouldn't start off with the more intense rock lords like Zepplin or AC/DC, he decides to start off easy with some plain old classics everyone probably knew. It was a mix tape Sam had bought him in hopes of widening his horizons and while Dean had memorized every single one of the greats listed there, it hadn't motivated him to buy any more records.

He's driving carefully down the road, tuned to the way her foot taps on Baby's floor, the way her hand is spread flat in the seat probably picking up the vibrations from the impala's killer engine when she turns towards him.

"You know, I'm having a really hard time placing a finger on the best part if this car, but I think it might be the no seat belt part." He turns to catch her eyes, brown and sparkling down to their deepest depths, smile turning them up just a touch.

He laughs and she chuckles too, "What else do love about her?"

"Uhm..." She looks around, "I love the full bench seats, and how shiny you keep her, but most of all I love how low she sits."

Dean frigging LOVES this woman!

"She?" He asks. Eyebrows raised, humorously.

She shrugs, "My dad always called our cars names growing up, it's familiar and I can tell you love your car a lot."

"Kinda hard not to see, huh?" He asks, inwardly laughing at himself, wondering if he seems shallow to her.

She nods, "Have to admit, half the reason I said yes to going out with you was so I could ride in this car." She smiles at him, looking playfully rueful.

He laughs outright at that and pats ins car on the dash board. "Well, I guess I have Baby to thank for one more thing then, huh?"

He revs her up, smiling mischievously and Iris doesn't even want to know all the secrets the car and Dean Winchester share with each other.

Dean seemingly ghosts into a parking spot on the crowded street just across the road from Briarson's and Family bakery and cafe. Iris opens her door and presses the lock down before shutting it behind her. Dean joins her, and they cross the street quickly, with his hand on the small of her back.

They slip into the relatively busy bakery laughing and faces a little pink with the cold wind. Dean grabs two menus, nodding to the staff. Those of who know both, Iris and Dean, and she thinks it'll probably cause a little talk amongst them. He leads the way to a window table, having fair proof that they both preferred window seats.

The table's fairly small, but the two high set chairs, look out onto the street.

"I haven't eaten yet," he says, "So Imma go for supper first, how about you?"

She nods, "Yeah I haven't eaten either, I've never eaten real food here though, so what do you like?"

He leans forward, tilting his menu so she can see and Iris leans in watching his fingers drift over the plastic pages. She tries not notice the burns on his finger tips or the crooked joints of his finger. She tries to ignore the fact that she knows what causes those particular wounds. Instead she chooses to enjoy their size, the way his fingertips taps over a more appreciated dish than the others.

Dean and herself decidedly share a passion for food. Though she finds his ultimate favorite leans towards burgers, while she leans towards pizza. He recommends half the dishes on the menu but she goes with the seafood bisque and fresh baked bread.

"Order whatever you want," he says, "My treat tonight."

"Dean, I can pay for myself." She says.

He laughs, holding up his hands, "I know you can Iris, but I asked you out, so my treat, okay?" He leans down to catch her eyes fully.

She smiles and nods, "Alright." She concedes.

"You can pay for the next date," he says slyly and she has to laugh at him.

"The next one?" She asks, eyebrow arched as his eyes dance mischievously.

"You know you can't say no."

"Whatever," she leaves off elusively as a waitress comes to take their drink orders.

Dean has a beer to go with his predictable burger, (and Iris has only known him for a few days.) Iris orders a lemon water and Dean laughs commenting it's like going on a date with 'Sammy'.

"Sammy?" She asks, curiously. Recognizing the name from their first meeting so many months ago.

He nods, swallowing down a gulp of beer. "Sam's my little brother, we work together. Been bunking and riding with each other for a long time now. I tell him were like an old married couple. But I think he's given up on getting rid of me by now though."

Iris likes the way his eyes light up when he talks about Sam the same way they did when he talked about the impala. She can tell Sam means a lot to Dean. Defines him like the impala does. She thinks it must an amazing man that is shaped by the things he loves and not shaping the things he loves to himself.

It reflects a selflessness Iris doubts anyone can miss in Dean Winchester. He smiles at her softly, as she observes his face, contemplating his personality and soul.

"What?" He asks,

She shrugs, "Just figuring you out."

"Ah," he nods understandingly, "A people reader."

"Well, you kinda have to be to survive, when you're all on your own away from home." She says shrugging.

He holds up his beer to her in salute before he takes a swig. "Amen to that." She looks down at the table for a moment in the silence, not having meant to disclose that much personal information. Not that she was afraid of Dean, just smart.

"So not from around here?" He questions after a moment.

She shakes her head, "Nah, my family is from North Carolina, I moved here after my grandfather died and left the bookshop to me." There goes smart...but God, she hadn't talked to anyone in forever.

"That's where that accent comes from, it was getting away from me." He says smiling.

"When I moved here, I tried to cut it back a little, bad for business. I think people sometimes feel like the slow drawl reflects on my intellect or something." Iris rolls her eyes and laughs a little.

"You're probably right," Dean says, and leans forward to whisper. "I love it though."

She smiles, looking down to hide the blush and is saved by their dinner coming just in the nick of time.

...

Present Day.

Sam watches Dean's eyes light up as the land on Iris. His hand tightens around hers.

"Hey baby," he whispers, "You okay? What happened?"

The following questions are standard Dean no matter who the person on the receiving end is, but the first two words were not. Baby? The impala was the only thing he'd ever heard Dean refer to as his 'Baby' but now Iris appears out of the blue apparently known, and trusted and added to the list of truly beloved things.

"It's okay, I'm alright," Iris soothes, fingers sifting through Dean's hair once more before landing on his forearm. "Sam's here." The words are spoken softer then the others, a warning almost in her tone. She gives Dean a full, beautiful smile, and Sam has a feeling he's seen nothing of her true beauty until she's truly happy.

Dean's eyes jump to Sam's where he approaches the foot of the bed. There's no fear in his eyes, maybe caution. Sam would guess that was for Iris though, his brother was probably daring him not to like her. Sam rolls his eyes.

"Hey Dean...you good?" He asks, shifting so he's standing beside Iris and looking into his brother's eyes. He's seen Dean hurt many times, this wasn't too bad. But then according to Dean nothing was bad.

Dean gives Sam a smile, reaching his eyes, he's thanking Sam for not blowing his head off RIGHT NOW. Iris may be standing closer to his brother but Sam can still take in all his tells. His eyes are blown, occasionally he catches him clenching his jaw, which means he's grinding his teeth together against the waves of pain.

"I'm al'right S'mmy," he says, keeping his voices low like Iris's, letting Sam know how bad his head hurts.

"Concussion," Sam says, Dean doesn't deny it, his eyes float back to Iris.

"You sure you're okay?" He asks again.

She nods, "Yes, I'm fine, just a few bruises, nothing serious."

"We should take a look at 'em," he says, getting up in his elbows and pushing himself a little farther up on the headboard, shutting his eyes tight and groaning deep in his throat.

"Dean, just take it easy," Sam says, even as Iris presses him back towards the pillow with a hand flat on his chest.

"I'm fine," she assures him. "You passed out on me, just stay still, okay?" The way her voice shakes a little reflects how much Dean had scared her, both brothers pick it up.

Dean gives her a soft smile and squeezes her hand tighter, but allows himself to be pressed down into the pillows. "Okay," he sighs, closing his eyes again. "But let Sammy take a look at you just in case?"

Iris makes no promises, "I'm gonna get you something for that headache." She gives him a final pat on his chest and then walks to the bathroom where Sam can hear her rifling through the cabinets. He approaches the bed and sighs looking down at his brother.

"Don' gimme that look," Dean says.

Sam rolls his eyes, "You sure you're alright?"

Dean shakes his head a little, as if trying to clear his head, but only succeeds in making himself look green. "Nothing I ain't had before, feels like I got pistol whipped."

"Sounds like that's what happened." Sam says demurely, sitting down on the side of the bed at Dean's hip.

"Five demons, really Dean?" Sam asks, letting his exasperation for in ally show a little.

Dean grimaces and looks away from his brother, "Iris had one."

Sam scoffs and shakes his head, "I'm just glad you're not dead." He says drily. Iris is coming from the bathroom.

"Thanks for not tearing me a new one, S'mmy," Dean mumbles, eyes cast downwards.

"Yeah," Sam muses, "Well, I guess this conversation can wait until we get home."

Dean nods too, very little movement, "Yeah, thanks, we'll talk then."

Sam gives Iris a tight smile, while Dean gives her a reassuring one.

She hands Dean two pills and offers him a small cup with water in it. Dean takes the medicine from her without a complaint, and Sam's feeling a little jealous now. Dean lays back with a huff after its done, and Iris smirks at him, apparently enjoying his willingness too. Sam's willing to bet she's experienced Dean's stubbornness first hand.

He gives Dean a last pat on the leg before rising and going in search for the coffee Iris had mentioned early. He keeps an eye on them through the door way, watching the way she takes care of Dean with a gentleness that speaks of intimacy, and how Dean's eyes follow her and allows her near him reflecting trust. The light in his eyes is enough to assure Sam that someone new has been added into the VIP section of Dean's heart where he and the impala reside.

Love.

It hits Sam like a truck, Dean loves her. Dean had learned to let himself close to someone, and from what Sam had seen the feeling was mutual. He watches as Iris pulls the covers up over Dean and climbs onto the bed from the other side. Dean stretches out an arm where he's leaned against the head board, and she lays her head on his shoulder, pressing herself as close to him as she can get.

Dean wraps his arm around her and pulls her even closer. Her arm goes over his stomach keeping him close too. Sam knows he should look away and give them some privacy, but he can't help but be curious as to this girl and this new side of his brother. He watches as Iris buries her face in Dean's t-shirt and grabs a fist full of the material in her hand.

Dean pushes a hand into her hair and presses a kiss to the top of her head.

"It's okay baby, it's okay I'm here now." He says, try to get a look at her face where she's hiding it in Dean's shirt. "Shsh, it's okay," he murmurs.

Iris just shakes her head, and Sam can hear her soft sobs floating back to him.

"It's okay," Dean soothes, "I'm okay, you're okay, we're good."

And how many times had Sam been the recipient of that same comfort? How familiar was he with the good thing that Dean was? He loved Dean, needed him, couldn't go on without him. Why should he be surprised someone else had met Dean and fallen in love with him and had decided to hold onto something good?

"Didn't know what to do," Iris whispers out to him with shuddering breaths. "I was so scared and you passed out on me...I was scared and I called Sam, I didn't know what to do, I'm sorry Dean."

"Hey, hey," he says softly, still letting her hair fall through his fingers as he brushes through it. "You did good, sweetheart, thanks for calling Sammy. It's all okay, he'll take care of us now." He pulls her closer to him and rubs his hand down her arm comfortingly. "I've gotcha, it's gonna be fine." He mumbles to her as she calms down, breaths hiccuping.

He presses a kiss to her temple, "It's okay, it's over. You can go to sleep now, I've gotcha, it's okay."

Her hand releases his t-shirt and rests relaxed on his chest, her cheek rests beside it, her tear filled eyes meeting his slightly glazed over green ones.

"I'll be right here when you wake up," he whispers confidingly.

Hand in her hair and holding her close, Dean has coaxed her to sleep in just a few minutes. Sam watches as he pulls the blankets over her too. He thinks this looks like a familiar picture. Does he even want to know how long this has been going on behind his back?

He shakes his head. Dean's eyes raise to meet his, and yes, though they know they have a lot to talk about Sam recognizes the fact that his brother is beat and hurting. He gives him a soft smile and sits in a chair in a corner of the room with his coffee. He'll wake Dean up every few hours, just to keep an eye on that concussion.

Dean's right, Sam will take of them. Sam knows his presence is the only reason Dean's eyes float shut and his cheek rests on the top of Iris's head in sleep. Sam shakes his head, only Dean could make such a mess out of dating someone...he can't wait to hear this story.

tbc...

PLEASE REVIEW!

thank you


	6. Chapter 5

Chapter 5.

Flash Back.

The waiter leaves their food giving Dean another beer and refilling Iris's glass with lemon water. The steam from her bowl of soup is floating up into her nostrils and she's just about face planting in it it smells so good. Dean is drizzling a HUGE burger with ketchup and licking greasy mayonnaise off his fingers. He sends her a happy grin as he grabs it up to dig in so she grabs her spoon. (A deep bowled, beautiful spoon, Iris isn't even sure she can get her mouth around it.)

Her first spoonful of the spicy creamy broth is like inhaling a little bit of heaven. There's the tangy seafood aftertaste so she uses her spoon to find some crab and maybe a shrimp or two.(Hopefully a lot more.) With all the flavors exploding in her mouth she looks over to find Dean practically making love with his burger. Really licking your fingers so much in public should be against the law.

She snickers as she breaks a little piece of bread off the fresh baked loaf and dips it into her soup. It was amazing. If the only thing she got out of this night was the food it would totally be worth it. She watches Dean's face darken as an ambulance speeds by, lights flashing in his expressive eyes. There's bad memories surrounding everyone everywhere. Iris feels safe with Dean.

Like maybe he knows what it feels like to be utterly alone in a world where everything triggers your darkest, most terrible fears. It was something she had had to learn on her own, she had learned to still the tremblings at night in her bed, had learned to take that step away her front door and the warm safety of her house every morning. She thinks maybe Dean knows, Dean understands, maybe Dean is fighting this too. Because she knows it's an up hill climb always. You never really conquer your fears, or your triggers, you learn to live with them. Maybe someday you would find someone that could make you forget.

When Dean looks up at her and smiles, and sits back gulping at his beer, she thinks maybe Dean Winchester could make her forget. She wonders if maybe she could help him forget? She thinks, as she sips soup from her basin of a spoon, that she would like to TRY. Try for herself, try for Dean. Try because she wants something more, try because she loves they way his eyes sparkle at her, loves the way his lips turn up when he catches her watching him.

Loves the way he makes her feel special and worth something, like she means something to this world, to him. God, she doesn't even know this man...but most of all she loves the way he makes her want to just BE again. To live, something she has a feeling she hasn't been doing much of. Like buying unknown desserts, and driving in a strange car with a strange man down a dark rainy street. She feels...excited for the first time in a long time.

Dean notices a brighter sparkle in Iris's eye than before as she glances up at him. She's trying not to slurp around the rather big spoon, and he can't help but think it's adorable. He's entirely taken with her sarcasm, balanced with a stand-offish politeness, all of which are hiding a funny, kind personality.

He loves how she's entirely attune to him. He's going to guess she's like that with everyone she's knows. It's a kind of defense mechanism he is familiar with. If you can predict what people will do then they won't hurt you. But she doesn't seem to mind his little quirks and tells, that say maybe his life has been harder than most. If anything her face softens and she opens up a little to him.

He can tell by the look in her eyes, the same look he sees in the mirror everyday, she's haunted, but she's trying to fight through it. He can respect that. She's fought through whatever she faced and slowly but surely she's winning. Making herself a new life, becoming someone she doesn't hate looking at in the mirror every morning. He knows the feeling, he's been working on it too.

This whole new era of life he and Sam are in right now was new for him, it was a little scary. They kind of sat around and did very little unless they caught a case and those were getting scarcer and scarcer. Dean wasn't used to having so much time to himself. He was used to devoting his whole self, his very soul to saving people...the world. He seriously needed something, someone, he needed something to think about, to throw himself into completely.

Sitting in front of him Iris is beautiful and lonely and somehow content in her one-person-world. He wants to change that. He wants to make her the lively, enthusiastic girl she had been one day long ago before life took her in its cruel hands and tore her to pieces. Pieces she is strong enough to be putting back together.

He wants to make her want more, wants to make her want company, and to not hide anymore in her solitariness. He wants to make her want to be around him. Wants to make her want to live for more than her books and her coffee and pastry every morning. See? Dean was a people person too.

He motions over the waiter, who comes smiling, knowing Dean...knowing he was a good tipper.

"Hey man," Dean says softly, "Can we get a smaller spoon for her?"

Iris shoots him a look. He shrugs, rolling his eyes.

"What? Those noises your making are almost obscene."

She purses her lips at him, "You're the one to talk licking your fingers like a cat cleaning itself."

Dean chuckles, "Hey, I'm not fault finding anyone for enjoying their food. But it just looks like quite a stretch to get that spoon in your mouth."

She laughs, "If I was English gentry I would know how to drink it out of the spoon but..."

"Not English gentry?" Dean guesses. She nods, pointing at him letting him know he got the right answer. She accepts the smaller spoon for the waiter.

"Thanks."

The rest of her soup makes a quick disappearance now that she can eat faster. She sops up the dregs of the buttery creamy broth with the last piece of her bread. She sighs with contentment as she wipes her mouth with her napkin and then folds it, slipping it under the arch of spoon neatly.

Dean watches her with an amused expression on his face. "Sure you're not English?"

"Shut up," she says, without any real heat, "It never killed anyone to be neat."

He holds up his hands surrendering.

"You too full for dessert right away or...?" He trails off, gaze drifting over to the warm glass cases laden with sweet goodies.

"Start off with coffee?" She asks, and he nods.

"Good idea."

He downs the last of his beer as she drinks some water to wash away that delicious seafood taste before her coffee. Dean flags down their waiter and orders himself a black coffee.

"Just black for me too," Iris doubles the order.

"Why don't you just bring the whole pot?" Dean suggests, knowing they'll probably want more coffee with their sweets. The waiter nods, apparently not a new request from Dean. After taking down they're coffee order he cleans their table off and then leaves them alone.

Iris sighs leaning back, feeling as though she could sleep an age after such a delicious, satisfying meal.

"Thank you," she says, a sincere smile reaching her eyes. "That was amazing, I didn't know their food was that good."

"You're welcome anytime." He winks at her, getting a little laugh from her. "What was that soup like anyway?"

"It was amazing! You have to try it sometime." She says, if Iris could come to life about anything it was food.

"Alright," he concedes, "But only if you try the burger."

"Deal."

"Did you just agree to another date?" He asks, head tilted forward, letting her know he was teasing her.

"Don't press your luck," she says with an arched eyebrow.

"Well, next date I'll just charm my way to another one and so on and so on." He says giving her a mischievous smirk.

She shakes her head, but waives giving a response as their coffee arrives with two cups. Dean pours a nearly overflowing steaming cup for her and then treats himself to the same. She inhales the steam from the strong brew sighing again in contentment as her gaze shifts out the window to the wet night.

"So," Dean starts. Her gaze jumps back to his face from the window. "What exactly do you do in that little shop?"

This Iris could talk about for hours.

"Well, it's a book shop, I sell most of the literature that's on demand. But I REALLY love finding rare first editions of the classics. So I kind of hold a viewing for those. Customers can come in and read them and see them."

Dean laughs, "That's cool, you and Sammy sound like you'd get along perfectly."

"Bookworm?" She asks, sipping her coffee.

Dean gives her a you-better-believe-it look, "Sammy got all the brains, and the patience, he's the brains of our little operation."

She laughs and shakes her head, "Somehow I don't believe that's the case."

Dean shrugs, "I'm more of a shoot first ask questions later guy, where as Sammy'd research you to death."

"Well, considering I own a bookshop, I think I'm more of the bookish type." She reasons, laughing. He laughs too, the crows feet beside his eyes wrinkling up as his emerald orbs sparkle bright.

"Well, I been with Sammy almost everyday for the last ten years, I think my type must be bookwormish."

"So now you're comparing me to your brother?" She asks, eyebrows arched, eyes sparkling a little mischievously.

He sighs and rolls his eyes, "You know what I mean."

She just laughs, drinking down her black coffee which was actually decent considering this was a restaurant and not a coffee house.

"Alright," Dean says clapping his hands and rubbing them together in expectation, "I'm read to try this brownie, you ready for the best pecan pie ever?"

"Let's do this," she agrees, returning his bright smile.

Dean waves over their waiter and he orders a large dishes of each of their preferred deserts.

"This way we can have some of both," he says smiling.

She smiles back and pours them both some more coffee. Their desert is brought quickly in two, huge servings. Iris's mouth waters at the sight of the brownie drowning in ice cream, whipped cream, and dark red raspberry sauce. The pecan pie looks equally good, a perfect piece standing straight with the custard pecan middle chewy on top but softer in the middle.

The waiter places both a spoon and fork in front of them both, and Dean immediately picks up his spoon and digs into the brownie. So Iris decides to start with the pecan since that was the whole reason Dean had taken her out.

She turns her fork on the side and cuts herself off a bite size piece. Dean watches her carefully as she brings it up to her mouth. Iris saviors the warm, sweet, nutty flavor on her tongue with the flakiness of a perfect pastry...it was the absolute best pecan pie she's ever eaten. She finishes that bite, washing it down a gulp if hot coffee.

She glances up to find Dean watching her.

"So?" He asks eagerly, "What do you think?"

She shakes her head at him with a smile on her face. "That was the best pie I've ever had. Like, wow that's really, really good. How about you, what about the brownie?"

"Oh my god," he gushes, already spooning some more into his mouth, he talks around the gooey chocolate and tart sauce. "This is divine, just like you said." He scoops just some raspberry sauce into his spoon, and puts it into his mouth, turning it upside down so he can lick it out.

"Like, first how do they even make that sauce? And then the brownie is just gooey and perfect but not raw, it's just amazing." Iris tells him as she takes a third and fourth bite of the pecan pie.

"Hold on, let me have some of that before you eat it all," Dean says reaching for the pie plate. She hands it over and reaches across the table grabbing the shallow bowl the brownie is in. He picks up his fork and she picks up her spoon. She nearly melts into the warmth and sweetness of the brownie and the tarty fruitiness of the raspberry sauce.

"I wasn't gonna eat all," she mumbles around her huge bite of brownie.

"Whatever," Dean retorts, "That's stuff is undeniable."

She laughs shaking her head, "I could literally eat this all day, every day." She says, pointing down to the brownie with her spoon.

"But it's so sweet, you would like be sick by the time you were on the second helping, pie you could eat all day, ever day and not really get sick."

She scoffs, "Whatever, pie is just as sweet as the brownie, and you would so be sick is you ate pie all day."

"Well you just said you could eat the brownie all day." He threw his head back laughing.

"I guess we'll have to agree to disagree." She says smiling. He gives her a soft smile around a bite of pie and she sucks her spoon clean before scooping up a new bite.

"So..." He asks, "Why'd you move all the way out here on your own?"

She shrugs, looking him straight in the eye. "I told you, my grandfather died, leaving me the store."

He chuckles a little and lean towards her. "C'mon, someone just doesn't pick up and leave their home and their family for a store some long lost grandfather left them."

She watches the way his eyes sparkle, knows he knows there's more to her story than just a normal story. She clears her throat and sips her coffee, glancing out the window, which Dean has begun to identify as a nervous tell of hers.

"There was nothing to leave behind," she says evenly.

"But I thought you said..."

"I lost my family, all of them." She says bluntly. She gives a small smile at the fall in his expression.

"So when I got word that my grandfather had died, leaving the book shop, I packed up and moved out here, I needed a fresh start."

"I'm sorry," Dean said softly. He cleared his throat, wiping a hand over his mouth. "You know, it's me and Sammy against the world." He laughs a little nervously. "But it wasn't always that way, we've watched everyone else go, and we haven't been able to do anything about it. I guess what I'm trying to say is, I know how it feels."

She smiles softly, "But you have Sam," she almost whispers.

He nods, "Yeah, I have Sam, and I guess what I'm trying to say is, me and my little brother barely survived and we had each other, but you're on your own. You're successful, and happy and content...you're one hell of a fighter, it's amazing really, that's all I'm saying."

She blushes, nervously laughing under her breath, she looks down to hide her embarrassment and the tears in her eyes for a moment.

"Hey? You good?" He asks, a hand coming to rest in her arm.

She looks up smiling, tears making her eyes sparkle all the more. "Yeah, I'm fine." She laughs a little tremulously, "I just, I haven't talked to anyone like this for over two years."

"I know what that emptiness feels like," Dean say leaning low across the table to meet her eyes, he grabs her hand. "I know what that feels like to shut the whole world out, Iris, don't do that to yourself."

She nods and looks down again.

"Yeah?" He asks softly.

"Yeah," she nods.

"So your not gonna like, bolt and disappear forever just because you opened up to me a little?"

She laughs and shakes her head, "No."

"Alright," he says, giving her the most beautiful smile she's seen yet, reflecting in his eyes and making them glow with feeling. "If your finished...?" He asks, motioning to their mostly empty desert dishes.

"Yeah," she nods, sniffing a little.

"Okay, you ready to go?"

She nods again, and doesn't hesitate when he holds onto her hand as they slip out the door after he leaves some cash on the table. They cross the messy street in the dark, and Dean opens the passenger door of the impala for her, she lets go of his hand when she climbs in. He's quickly back by her side in the driver's seat, hand open on the leather between them. She smiles and reaches over, their fingers slipping in between each other's.

She doesn't know where this is heading, but Dean makes her feel alive and whole like no one has...ever, especially not in these last two hellish, lonely years. She doesn't intend on letting go of this good thing.

Dean drives back towards Iris's book shop, the tape still playing from early. He didn't want to go too fast, scared he had already spooked her, but Iris seem at ease with her hand in his. Their fingers meshed together.

"Is there some place you want me to drop you off at?" He asks, softly. She shoots him an unexpectedly vibrant smile.

"Yeah, uhm, address is 500 Old Domain."

Dean navigates through the city, with his embedded compass that freaks Sam out. He drives down the dark quiet streets downtown towards Iris's house. She didn't move her hand the whole time, enjoying the feeling of being close to another human being. She's surprised at how quickly Dean finds her house, and sighs deeply looking at the dark building. She doesn't want to leave the warmth of the impala, or the warmth of Dean's company and his hand.

She sighs, glancing at him.

"Nice place." He says in a low voice.

She nods, "I like it." There are a few more beats of silence. "Thanks for tonight," she says, looking him square in the eye. "It was good, like the best time I've had in two years." She laughs nervously.

"Wow," he says, "Your life really has sucked."

She laughs, "Yeah."

"When..." He starts. But she cuts him off smiling.

"You did say I could pay for the next date, right?"

Yeah, I did," he chuckles.

"Alright," she grabs her bag from the floor at her feet. "Then how about Friday night?"

"Yeah, that's good," he says. "You want my number in case something comes up?"

She cocks an eyebrow at him and his second use of that phrase. "Things 'come up' an awful lot for you?"

"It's just a precaution, you wouldn't want me to think you stood me up would you?"

"No, we wouldn't want that."

She hands him her phone and he enters his number under 'Dean' smirking as he hands it back.

"Want me to walk you to your door?" He asks, with the cutest, most unassuming look on his face.

"I think I'll be alright, Dean." She says, smirking herself.

"But then I won't be able to kiss you goodnight?!" He argues, pouting admirably well for faking. Maybe he wasn't faking.

"Sucks to be you," she shoots back smoothly.

He purses his lips and send her a sharp look that she smirks at.

"Goodnight then," he says, turning her hand over and pressing a kiss into her palm.

His lips press dry and hot on her sensitive skin, and her fingers tingle as his stubble scratches over the pads of them. She takes her hand back with a blush on her cheeks she's glad he can't see in the dark, and a swooping, happy feeling in her stomach.

"Goodnight," she returns softly. Then shuts the car door behind her and quickly walks up her steps and unlocks her door and shuts it behind her. She leans back against it, gently rubbing the fingers of her other hand over her palm where his lips touched.

Dean watches her disappear and it takes everything in him to drive away. Friday was a long ways away...

tbc...

This short hiatus is killing me! I need help getting inspired...if you're reading this and liking it PLEASE TELL ME WHAT YOU THINK WITH A REVIEW! ;)

thank you


	7. Chapter 6

Chapter 6.

Flashback.

Iris had several episodes of regret over the following days. Twice she regretted doing the whole thing at all. The whole going out thing and exchanging numbers and paying for a date to be fair. But more often than not she found herself regretting that she'd scheduled the date on Friday, which seemed to be very far away indeed.

She missed him, especially since she didn't see him at the coffee shop on any of the mornings. Maybe he and Sam had needed to go out of town for work? She knew he would let her know if he couldn't make it so she held out until Friday lunch time.

She was undecided what to do. She was eager to see him again, she really like Dean. But she was too proud and insecure to put herself out there when Dean might not be as interested as her, or as desperate for company. After all he did have Sam. And with that face? She was sure he'd had plenty of the other kind of company too. It didn't help with her insecurity at all.

But over her sandwich and some paperwork on her desk on Friday she pulls out her phone and scrolls down to find Dean's contact. She types out a quick message.

'Haven't seen you in a few days, still on for tonight?'

There, done.

She sighs and lays her phone down on the desk in front of her and turns back to her paperwork. She feels better and relieved to have it off her chest, but also more twisted up inside then ever. What if he didn't text back? What if she had misread the signs? What if he met someone better then her? The stress of the situation was starting to tell on her.

She nearly drops her cup of tea when a message beeps in on her phone. She leans over the screen and presses the home button to view the message. The phone lights up and Dean's name looks back at her, under which is a message from him.

Dean: 'Me and Sam went out of town on business, I missed the coffee shop...and you.'

She smirks even as another message beeps in.

Dean: 'Of course we're still on for tonight, what would you do without me?"

She types a quick message back.

Iris; 'Keep thinking that if it makes you feel better. Are you going to pick me up?'

Dean; 'Of course I'm picking you up, couldn't pay me to ride in anything other than Baby, besides nothing but the best for you. 7:00?'

Wow, she thinks, he took the trouble to capitalize 'Baby". Maybe she should be slightly concerned about the obsessive relationship he has with his car. She smiles as she types out her next message, she might not know him that well but she knows she'll get a good rile out of him for this.

Iris; 'Yeah, that sounds good. Can I drive tonight since it's my date?'

It takes a few moments longer for his next message to come in.

Dean: 'I like you a lot, just not that much yet.'

She snickers.

Iris: 'Lol, I'm just kidding, of course I don't want to drive your car. I'm afraid of what you'd do to me if I messed her up.'

She waits a little anxiously for his answer on this one. It comes right away.

Dean: 'I'm scared of what I would do too, lol!'

She laughs out loud at that one.

Iris: 'Alright, well I'll see you tonight then.'

Dean: 'Hold your horses, where are we going?'

Iris: 'Can't tell you, it's a surprise. No weird food allergies or anything I need to know about, right?'

Dean: 'No allergies. At least give me a hint.'

Iris: 'No hints.'

Dean: 'How am I supposed to know what to wear if you don't even give me dress code?'

Iris can nearly hear that adorable pout in the typed out words.

Iris: 'Dean, I didn't know you were such a fashionista?'

Dean: 'What can I say? You bring it out in me.'

He should be thankful he can't see her huge eye roll, she thinks.

Iris: 'Something like what you wore the other night will be fine, it's just casual.'

Dean: 'That's so revealing.'

She smiles at the words smacking of sarcasm.

Iris: 'Good luck Sherlock, see you tonight.'

Dean apparently relents.

Dean: 'Alright, see you tonight and looking forward to it.'

Iris: 'Me too.'

She's grinning like crazy as she opens the store back up for the shortened Friday work afternoon. He really does like her! She's excited and probably going to make a fool out of herself. But Dean was funny and a touch awkward and she's very afraid she's falling for him.

...

The days dragged by for Dean, even when he and Sam drove to the next state to take care of a couple of rogue vamps who fell off the straight and narrow. It was hard to keep his excitement hidden from Sam, but he was scared to jinx this thing he had going on. Scared if he said something, if someone more knew then just him that it would coming crashing down around his ears like every other good thing he'd ever had.

So he bit his tongue and tried not to drive Sam crazy with his nervous tells and his loud music and reckless driving. It felt good to end some evil, even though the pair of vamps had been a young couple who had been each other's down fall and had ended bloody and gory...much to Dean's joy. He hardly ever got to let off steam with violence anymore.

He and Sam had stumbled into the bunker late Thursday night and had fallen into bed dirty and hungry, but thank you God, their beds were still there in their home. It was something they still remembered, never having a place to call their home, to have somewhere to belong to. They never took the bunker for granted, they never took the fact they were still alive for granted.

Damn, Dean thinks. They're getting wise in their old age.

Friday morning comes all too soon.

He rolls over in his bed to find his phone where the alarm is going off, but instead of more bed, Dean feels nothing but air and let's out an 'oomph' as he hits the cold floor. Taking that as a sign, he gets up on his knees and fishes through his bedclothes to find his phone. He sighs as he hits at the screen desperately trying to stop THAT SOUND.

Dean face plants in his mattress as soon as the alarm is silenced. His knees are still cold and sore on the floor but he can hardly move, think, or get his eyes open let alone get up to get back in bed or get in the shower. He turns his face away from his mattress to look at his door as he hears shuffling footsteps coming his way.

Sam's tall, wide-shouldered silhouette fills the doorway. He's rubbing at his eyes petulantly and yawning as he nearly falls on his face tripping over Dean's bag as he heads straight for the other side of Dean's bed.

"Dude," he whines. "You forgot to turn off your alarm?"

Sam lets himself fall straight into his brother's bed, echoing Dean's oomph as he face plants in his pillow. He inhales deeply about to sigh contentedly. Dean's pillow smells rotten. He guesses that must be what you smell like after you let vampire guts and blood marinate on you for twelve hours.

"Ugh, you stink." Dean beats him to it, turning his head away, disgusted.

Sam huffs, throwing Dean's pillow to the floor and burying his face in the slightly fresher smelling sheets that were underneath it. He brings up his arms and wraps them around his head protectively. He's breathing deep in just a few moments, asleep once again.

Dean raises his head and sighs, frowning as he looks at the giant Sasquatch now taking up his mattress. That was that. He was most definitely not about to climb into Sam's hard-as-rocks bed, that was with all probability just as smelly, if not more so. (Sam sweated way more than him.)

He heaves another sigh and then uses the bed to pull himself to his feet. He groans under his breath as he feels the stiff muscles object. But once straight and stretching his back he does feel better and a little more awake. He grabs some clean clothes from his drawers and heads for the bathroom, making sure to close the door before tuning on the light so Sam could sleep on.

He turns on the water, leaving the temperature as hot as possible. The steam begins to cloud the air and soon Dean's breathing in the warm, moist air relieving some of the pressure building up starting to give him a headache. He strips and steps under the scalding stream, rolling his shoulders under it, feeling the muscles rippling and knotting under his skin, the hot water soothing them and making Dean feel like a halfway decent person again.

He picks up a clean wash cloth and rubs his bar of soap over it, coating and lathering himself up. God, it felt so good. Fingers run rough through his hair and over his scalp washing away all the filth and grittiness. He washes away all the physical evidence of the releasing violence and the successful hunt. The shower leaves him even more relaxed and he towels himself down until his skin tingles a little bit. He pulls on an old pair of worn jeans and his softest t-shirt, and pair of thick socks.

He runs the towel over his hair one last time then turns off the bathroom light as he slips out and walks blindly across his room and then out the door, shutting the door behind him softly. Sam rubs his face into the sheets but other then that doesn't stir. Dean smiles at his hair falling in his face and across his own sheets. He makes such a pretty picture.

Dean snickers all the way to the kitchen where he begins brewing a pot of coffee and frying himself an egg and finding a blueberry bagel Sam had tried to hide from him. He laughs some more at his brother's expense as he enjoys his breakfast in the quiet bunker.

Sam makes an appearance somewhere around nine o'clock, his hair still mostly rogue. He barely acknowledges Dean's presence as he pours himself a cup of coffee and carries it with him back to his room. Dean follows, Sam pulls out some clothes and then goes to the bathroom pulling out a towel and wash cloth.

"Imma wash the sheets, alright?" Dean says, already stripping Sam's bed.

"Okay," Sam says yawning once again. "Stay out, I'm getting in the shower."

"Like I wanna see that horror show," Dean grumbles, shaking the pillows out of their cases.

"Whatever," Sam grumbles back, sounding a lot more fond and amused then he meant to. He shuts the door a little harder just for good measure. Dean chuckles.

"Shut up," Sam says, just before he turns on the shower.

It's twelve o'clock and Dean's in the laundry room sorting through clothes, switching their sheets into the dryer and starting a load of jeans and plaid and socks and underwear when Iris's text message beeps in. His phone vibrates on the top of the washing machine nearly scaring him to death.

He grabs it about to send Sam a text to remember when he realizes it's not Sam's name but Iris's as the contact. He blushes when he realizes his heart skips a VERY tiny beat. He leans against the dryer as their conversation passes.

He's quick to clear any misunderstandings about him not being there, or not wanting to go. Iris was a pretty good at hiding stuff, but he's got a suspicion she's not quite as strong and secure as she lets on. He knows the drill. Knows sometimes pretending to be strong and good enough is the best you can do.

He doesn't understand how Iris can even begin to think that she wasn't enough. She was the most extraordinary woman he'd ever met, she was gentle and kind, but smart and she wasn't going to let anyone pull one over on her...he really respected that. She stood up for herself and knew how to use words to her advantage, she wasn't afraid to work things to her advantage.

On top of all this the more he was around her the more beautiful he found her to be. It grew as they grew to know each other more. He'd found himself several times wanting to run his fingers through that long dark brown hair and let it fall in cool strands through his fingers. He could have fallen into those warm brown eyes a thousand times over, he loved it when they caught the light and they flashed hazel or green. He loved it how her lips turned up but hardly ever fully smiled. Loved it when he made that full smile make an appearance.

The dresses and the skirts and the high heels he'd assumed he'd find sissy-ish he found himself loving more and more. He loved the contrast she drew to himself. Loved how everywhere he was strong and manly and macho she was soft, and quiet and kind. He loved how in everything she did her strength and confidence and that peace that had first caught his attention seemed to animate from her in her unassuming yet sure movements and words.

And her asking to drive the impala? This girl was actually trying to get in his car before his pants. In other words they are basically meant to be.

He finds himself staring at the wall opposite him when Sam stops in the doorway looking around, cocking an eyebrow.

"Dude, are you daydreaming?"

Dean kind of shakes himself and presses start on the washer.

"Shut up," he says, he brushes past Sam leaving him laughing at his back.

When it's time Dean showers again and puts on his nicest pair of jeans, dark wash, and a button up shirt. He neatly rolls up the sleeves and splashes on some cologne. See? He has class too. He ties up his dress boots and pulls the cuffed jeans down over them. He has to say he looks pretty sharp himself. Lastly he pushes his fingers lightly coated in gel through his hair, styling it with the front flipped up a little.

He grabs his coat, keys and wallet and heads out, striding into the library to let Sam know he's taking off. His brother sits in one of the comfy leather seats feet propped of on another. His laptop is resting on his stretched out legs and he's snacking on some health nut chips...they look disgusting.

He glances up, doing a double take when he sees Dean. "Looking to get laid?" He asks, doing the closest thing to a leer Sam Winchester the biggest prude in the world is capable of. It was still a pretty sad attempt.

"Your just jealous," Dean says, pausing in the door heading down to the garage. "See you later, don't wait up."

Sam waves him off and goes back to crunching on chips and looking at his laptop screen. If Dean wasn't ready and so anxious to go he'd have walked over to see what had his brother so interested.

He leaves Sam to it and heads off to the garage, reveling in his car's rumble vibrating up through her seats to him. He turns up his music and points her towards Lebanon, the dark, night road disappearing under Baby's speeding black shape.

...

Iris closes the shop at four o'clock and walks home in the warm afternoon sun. She carries her coat over her arm since the weather was warming up a little early. When she gets home she opens the door and catches the cat before it shoots outside. She pets it and soothes it as she shuts the door behind her.

She opens some of her windows to let in some of the fresh air. She does a little cleaning before starting to get ready. She jumps in the shower to wash off all the sweat and dust from her work day but protects her already curled hair by pinning it on top of her head. Getting out, smelling clean and feeling much better, she rubs herself dry and pulls on a pair of skinny jeans and a navy blue t-shirt.

She listens to music as she applies her make up and let's her hair back down. She pins it half way up with some wisps falling around her face. Next she pulls on her taupe booties and a lace, flower embroidered kimono to go on top of her t-shirt. She clips on her watch and her silver chain necklace with the small diamond pedant.

After spraying on her perfume, she grabs her bag and phone and then sits to wait on her couch, looking over some paper work, and a book auction a few towns over she needs to go to. The clock on her mantle ticks the seconds and minutes away and soon chimes the hour. Dean was about to be here.

She can hear the impala when it turns in at the end of her street, it's rumble nearly vibrates through the quiet neighborhood. She listens as it comes to a stop, stalls and turns off. She hears his boots on her porch and then his firm but polite knock of her front door. She stands and smooths down her clothes, breathing deep once and then walked to the little foyer and unlocked the door and opened it.

Dean stands there in front of her, at her house, looking well, looking amazing and like something that walked out of her dreams. His dark wash jeans and button up are form fitting without being tight, and his eyes are greener in the setting sun as he looks up from wiping his boots on her mat.

His face immediately lights up in a smile as he sees her and she can't help herself either as her lips turn up with his; his smile is kind of contagious with those wrinkles by his eyes. He seems to break from whatever trance he's in after his eyes make a quick trip from her shoes back to her face.

"Hey Iris."

"Hey Dean," she says, her smile taking on a ironic twist.

She isn't so smug though when he steps up into the doorway and leans into her space. He lays the thumb and palm of one hand against her cheek and slips the rest of his fingers under her ear pulling her to him as he bestows a kiss on her cheek. He pulls away but let's his lips ghost over her skin, wandering down towards her neck, making her shiver with his soft exhale of hot air.

He pulls away with a soft smile on his lips, watching the way her pupils shrink from their dilated state as he pulls away, and lets his fingers linger momentarily against her soft skin.

"You look beautiful," he says.

Iris swallows before she can answer. "Thanks," is what she manages out.

"You ready?" He asks, slipping a hand into his pocket.

"Um, yeah," she shoots him a smile, "Let me get my stuff." She turns and walks back to the living room to get her bag. She finds him still standing in the door looking around.

"You wanna come in, see the place?"

He nods, "Yeah, sure."

He follows her in through the foyer. She motions to her right, "There's the living room, and to your left is the dining room, I never really go in there." She leads him into the kitchen, "This is the kitchen, and through there," she points to a cased opening, "Is the back of the house, the bedrooms and the laundry room and stuff."

He nods looking around, "I like it," he says, smiling. "It's...you, it's exactly how I would have excepted it to be...clean." He chuckles.

She laughs too. "Okay, now that you've had the grand tour you ready?"

"Hell yeah," he says following her back through to the front of the house, "I'm driving though, so you gotta tell me where we're going."

"You're such a control freak," she says, as he takes her keys and locks her front door for her.

He shoots her a look and she sighs, "Are you up for driving into Topeka?"

He nods and opens her door for her, "Lots of possibilities in Topeka."

She smirks as he rounds the impala's hood and climbs in beside her. "Well, you have the entire drive to guess."

He pouts and she laughs. "Does that usually work?"

His shoulders slump, and he cranks the car looking dejected that his attempt hadn't been successful. "On Sam? All the time." He chuckles thinking about his little brother. She laughs too, Iris can only imagine all the fun two brothers could have, she remembers with a little heartache her siblings and how they fought and made up almost daily.

Dean drives towards Topeka making the most possibly absurd guesses as to where they're going. Including, McDonald's, a gay strip club, and Hooter's. Iris laughs nearly the whole way there, her mouth aching from smiling.

Once they coast into Topeka she hands Dean her phone with GPS to their destination.

He raises an eyebrow, "The Mediterranean Deli?" He questions, thinking probably no other restaurant could sound less like something he'd like.

She rolls her eyes, "Trust me?"

"Alright..." He says grinning at her. He looks over the map shown on the screen, nearly giving Iris a heart attack.

"You're not even looking at the road!" She screeches, making a grab for the steering wheel.

He laughs, pushing her back towards her seat and handing her phone back having worked out his on way to get to the deli.

"I got it Iris," he laughs, "I've spent more time driving this car than not." He leans towards her as if to reveal a secret, "Baby's got autopilot."

She laughs again feeling the muscles in her face and stomach object. "Stop," she says breathing heavily, "Don't make me laugh anymore it hurts."

He laughs and she's momentarily shocked by the amount of warmth and emotion in his smiling eyes as he looks over at her.

"What?" She asks, as he pulls over onto a parking space on the side of the street.

"Nothing," he shrugs, and jumps out to open her door. She stands and he's close, looking down at her. "I just, you're beautiful when you laugh."

She purses her lips and pushes him away playfully, "That's why you're making me laugh so hard I'm sore."

He shakes his head and takes her hand as they walk down the street towards the restaurant having had to park a little ways down from it. Iris weaves her fingers through Dean's, loving the warmth and the calloused feeling.

Dean smiles down on her, pulling her closer by pressing their hands down against his thigh. Their shoulders bump and nearly their noses. Iris catches a whiff of his cologne. Dean, her perfume...they are both in trouble.

"Okay," he says, sighing, pushing away the last of his laugh. Frankly his stomach muscles were a little crapped too from laughing too much. "What's so good at this Mediterranean Deli that made you plan your date here?"

She cuts her eyes at him, having guessed the name would make him a little leery. "Ever had a lamb burger before?"

He raises his eyes brows, "Lamb burger?"

"I'll take that as a no." She pulls him towards the door, "This is a must for any burger lover." She assures him.

...

Dean had moaned and groaned over the lamb burger in ecstasy. Tzatziki sauce dripping down his fingers to his hands and then to his plate. Iris had enjoyed hers just as much, not having had one for a long time. On the way home they had been too full to laugh hardly at all, but they still found themselves grinning at each other over the lids of their Starbucks coffee.

Dean, a plain black, and Iris, a caramel frappe.

"Is that any good?" He asks, half way home.

"You've never had a caramel frappe?" She asks, then shakes her head, "And you call yourself a foodie."

"Whatever," he returns, "How am I supposed to know a girlie drink is good?"

She shakes her head again, smirking, "Maybe starting by not being sexist."

Dean laughs, "Good point."

"You wanna taste?" She asks, offering her cup to him.

He nods and she holds it up for him as he sucks some of the drink from her straw as one of his hands was on the wheel and the other holding his coffee.

"Huh?" She asks, not sliding back over to her allotted section of the bench seat. "It's pretty good, right?"

He nods, still licking the sweet coldness out of his mouth. "That's amazing!"

"That's what you miss out on being sexist."

"Hey!" He says, elbowing her.

She elbows him back.

"Whatever," he sighs.

"If I can drink black coffee and not endanger my femininity, you can drink a frappuccino without endangering you manliness."

"What are you talking about? Nothing can endanger my manliness." He scoffs, making her chuckle.

"Not even Mediterranean Delis?"

"Hey," he objects, "There were like half the crazy health people in this world in there."

She laughs again, "Yeah, because it's freaking good."

He concedes, it had been excellent.

Iris is sad when Dean stops the impala in front of her house, she doesn't want the night to be over. The moon and lights are sparkling in Dean's eyes that are just a touch bright from the two beers he'd drunk. He's loose and happy like she hasn't seen him yet, and she wants to reach out and touch him.

Dean uncranks the impala and gets out, opening Iris's door for her. She takes the hand he offers her and stands up, leaning back to grab her bag not letting go of his hand. They walk through her yard, to her door in silence both having been subdued by realizing the night was over.

She unlocks her door, and stands with it slightly ajar. She turns to look at him.

"I know tomorrow's Saturday but I have this thing, this book auction. It would be pretty boring, but I thought maybe you would like to go and we could grab some lunch after?"

Dean thinks she looks beautiful standing in the moonlight, looking unsure of herself and holding onto his hand and looking anywhere but his eyes.

"I'd love to go with you," he says softly, crowding her space a little and placing a warm hand at the small of her back pulling her towards him.

Iris lets him mold her body to his, his arm slipping all the way around her, his other hand slipping up into her hair tilting her head just so. It's was like that magical moment when the song starts playing, like when time freezes, when all that matters is what is happening right now.

Dean gently presses his lips to hers, loving the soft warmth beneath his. He feels her arms go up and rest on his shoulders as her fingers gently run into his hair. He parts his lips with a soft exhale of air and licks at her full bottom lip. Her lips part with a soft gasp of her own, and Dean takes the opportunity to kiss her deeper, slipping his tongue along her top lip before nearly falling into the wet heat of her mouth.

Iris gasps as she feels his warm breath on her lips and then the cool wet touch of his tongue, then she feels him pull her against him more firmly, his fingers tightening in her hair. Dean kisses her harder, his tongue slipping from her top lip into her mouth, mapping it out, familiarizing himself with it. She smiles as she leans into his touch, and enjoys the taste of him.

Dean barely keeps back the moan rising in his chest at the heat of Iris's mouth. He can taste the sweetness of the frappe in it and on her tongue, and beneath something purely Iris. A clean, warm taste like a breeze on a summer's afternoon and he can't get enough of it.

He pulls away leaving them both gasping for air a little. He hugs her to him, burying his face in her neck breathing in the scent of her he'd been getting teasing whiffs of all night.

Iris wraps her arms around Dean's neck copying his actions of nosing the soft skin of his neck. He smells like aftershave and the impala and leather, and something else, something else she going to guess is his house or maybe Sam. He smells amazing. She breathes in big breaths of it, wanting to have this for forever if he ever leaves her.

Her lips part as she feels him place an opened mouth kiss on the sensitive skin of her neck, and then he's pulling away, leaning his forehead against hers for a second. Running strong fingers through her hair and then across her cheek bone, his thumb caressing over her bottom lip.

She meets his eyes for a millisecond but it is too scared to believe in the emotion she sees there so she looks away, smiling softly. He chuckles deep in his chest, and she feels it vibrating across their bodies to warm her own chest. She smiles wider, and relaxes her arms from around his neck and lets her hands frame his face for a moment, looking into his eyes, trying to learn what he truly feels and thinks.

He releases her too, and lets his big, warm hands drift down her arms and take hold of her hands.

"Goodnight," he says under his breath.

"Goodnight," she repeats. He squeezes her hands once and then is gone. She watches the impala drive away down the street and waves at his silhouette. Fingers against her hot, slightly swollen lips, she thinks this is a feeling she never wants to forget. She feels foolish and stupid and maybe she's going to get herself hurt but most of all she can't wait to see him again tomorrow.

tbc...

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	8. Chapter 7

Chapter 7.

Flashback.

Ten-thirty the next morning finds Dean back in the impala with Iris by his side, again speeding towards Topeka. She'd told him the address of the book auction and he'd entered it into his phone. He was now without a care in the world, fingers tapping against Baby's wheel to the radio a little louder than the last few times with Iris, and the windows down.

Iris sits beside her rolled down window, hand feeling the wind whipping by, eyes hidden behind a large pair of sunglasses that Dean likes on her. She was dressed professionally since this was technically for business, but Dean thinks he's never seen her so relaxed. She might have been trussed up in a straight black skirt and a squarish blouse with all that glorious hair pinned up in a tight French twist but she looked at home in his car with him.

Dean thought the linen scarf tied around her neck set off the whole thing, bringing out the whiteness of her skin and the redness of her lips. Plus, made her match with Baby's vintage age, and that made his smirk turn into a genuine smile. Her fingers were lying on the seat beside her tapping to the radio too, he feels like maybe they have a chance.

Maybe she was just normal and traumatized enough to work for a Winchester. Which sounded really bad, but there was certain type of person who understood their life without having to know what it was really all about. He hoped...he had a feeling that was Iris. She could be his salvation, his justification, could make him the man he'd always wanted to be. The good, faithful boyfriend, the man everyone depended on and looked up to.

Iris was constantly chill, he'd only ever seen her slightly annoyed at the coffee shop when he'd been rude and stolen her seat. He had a feeling that not much would ruffle her feathers, he had a feeling she could deal with him, could make him into someone better, and that's what he needed. His saving-the-world days were over, now he could worry about himself. Becoming a better person, he owed it to himself and to Sam. And if he kept going with Iris, pretty soon he'd owe it to her too.

He looks over to meet her eyes and returns her small smile. He was taking it slow. For himself, for her. He could tell Iris wasn't ready, wasn't ready to be CLOSE to someone. She was scared to let anyone. Who just loses their family? It must have pretty traumatic, and then she'd never let anyone in since then. And now Dean. He's scared for her, he doesn't want to hurt her.

But he's watching her, the way she's reading over the pamphlet for the book auction taking notes down on a list she's made up of all the books she wants and some that she's looking for for private clients. She's smart, she's independent, she willing to try with Dean. He feels really lucky.

When he pulls up in front of the warehouse it looks more like a show room. Iris gets out and pulls off her sunglasses, pulling her bag over her shoulder. Tucking her paperwork under her arm as she applies a little lipstick using the camera on her phone. He walks around to join her as she's putting it all away and straightening her clothes.

Iris thinks Dean is cutting a fine figure in a nice pair of jeans and a burgundy sweater she would have never suspected he owned. She thinks with him by her side she'll be the picture of businesslike perfection. She doubts he has any actual interest in books or the auction, but he's trying for her and she swears she's going to go as quickly as she can so he doesn't get too bored and they can go on to lunch.

They walk through the door of the warehouse and Iris shows her invitation, making Dean smirk. He actually wasn't sneaking into one of these things for once. He follows her over to a section of books laid out under a sign labeled as 'first edition.' He remembers her saying she was into that. He guesses if you were going to have private clients buying books from you it would probably be expensive first editions.

Iris is looking over a few different delicately bound books so he wanders a little ways off looking over some older, rougher books. He drags his finger tips over them, feeling how soft the covers and spines were. Something he'd started doing a long time ago as Sam researched. He liked to guess at how much a book had been used by how worn it's cover and pages were.

He's watching Iris talk with a salesman while still drifting his fingers over the books. His skin is met with a cool feeling as soft as silk and his head jerks back to look at the book his hand currently rests on.

The book is old, like older than old. Not well kept, but definitely well used. The cover of the book is almost worn off completely, but at its four corners the devil's traps carved there are unmistakeable. He lets his fingertips ghost over them, feeling the indentions, wandering the story of the book. Who it had helped in the past? He opens the cover and lets the pages flip over affording him a brief glimpse as to the contents of most of the pages.

It was definitely a lore book. But to find one afloat with Devil's traps carved into it was something Dean had never found. He was actually pretty excited, he want to see what it said. Unfortunately he wasn't Sam, and the language wasn't Latin. He's snapping pictures of it with his phone when he becomes aware Iris is standing close beside him, her hip pressed against him, but her fingers are running over the book's cover just like his had.

"Oh my god," she breathes, sending him a blinding smile, "I can't believe it! You found the book!" She flips through the pages like he had, and found no publication date, just like he hadn't.

"What?" Dean asks, a little stupidly, entirely blindsided. What did Iris know about lore books? He supposes normal people must know about lore books, but who wanted first edition lore books other than Bobby and Sam?

"I've been looking for a copy of this book forever! I have a client."

Dean sighs, "Oh, well in that case, it's all yours." He gives her a charming smile. He has a feeling to a sensible girl like Iris being wrapped up in lore and the supernatural even as a hobby would be a turn off.

She studies his face for a moment, "You wanted it?" She asks, sounding surprised.

"Nah, it's fine," he waves it off, "I got some pictures."

"Oh, well you found it," she looks confused for a second, but holds it out to him.

"Its just that I've seen something like it before," he says smiling, "Don't worry it's nothing. Really, it's all yours." He hands it back and she takes it handing it to the salesman behind her.

"I'll take that one too." She says with a polite smile, and then turns back to Dean, slipping her hand into his, standing close to him again. "I'll let you know if the client doesn't want it." She breathes into his ear.

He smirks, "What would I do with an old dusty book anyways?"

She laughs and wraps her other hand around his arm. "Thank you."

He smiles down on her, catching the smell of her perfume, "What for?"

"For finding the book, I didn't think I'd ever find that it." She sighs happily, and doesn't let go of Dean as they wander down the aisles of books. Dean decides it was worth it, besides, it's not like the book was probably anything the Men of Letters didn't already have, right?

Iris pays for the books she bought and Dean decides he doesn't want to think about all that money spent on BOOKS. He doesn't care how much of a geek or fan you are, that much money for a book is just insane. At the register he picks up one of the boxes of books and Iris the other.

"You got it?" He asks, "I can come back for it."

She smirks, "I think I can handle a box of books. I own a bookstore."

"Okay," he chuckles, "Just checking."

She nudges his box with her and he chuckles nudging her back. They load the boxes into the impala's back seat on a blanket so as not to mess up the seats and Iris sighs with relief to have that over and done with. She slumps down in the passenger seat of the impala letting her head rest against the back of the seat closing her eyes, feeling the sun streaming in on her face.

Dean sits down beside her and cranks the car. The radio comes back to life, and Dean's eyes sparkle when he looks over at her. She opens her eyes and looks over at him as she feels his fingers in her hair. They nimbly find the hair pins and pull them out, causing the long brown curls to fall over the back seat. She smirks as he leans over and places a gentle kiss on her lips, his already turned up in a smile.

His fingers are tangled in the long strands until he leans away a little and soothes the hair back from her face. "Much better," he says softly. Then he scoots back over to his side of the bench seat and puts Baby in park and starts to drive back towards Lebanon.

"What do you wanna do for lunch?" He asks, making the interstate disappear underneath Baby

"Um," she thinks for minute, but shakes her head, "I don't know, you wanna drop the books off at the shop and go grab something?"

"Yeah, that sounds good. I wanted to actually see inside this place." He says smirking.

She laughs and slides her shades back on, "Its nothing special."

"It's nothing special?" He asks back, "Somehow I don't believe that."

"Whatever, you can see for yourself." He smirks, hearing a little bit of that cynicism. Iris is so much like him sometimes, it should scare him more. She's doubtful of everything she does herself, is relived after she finishes a business transaction. But she hides behind her sunglasses and her smirks and cynicism. When she really wants to believe in herself and the whole of humanity. He's knows it can be hard to believe in anything when life takes everything from you.

Dean cruises down Wheeler Lane which was the road the coffee shop and the bookstore was on and shuts the impala off. Iris goes ahead up the steps and unlocks the door, then comes back for the other box of books, following Dean inside.

Dean's first impression of the store was that he'd walked into a private library in one of those old, big houses. The walls were paneled entirely in glossy wood, as were the floors where there weren't old Persian rugs covering it. There were rows of book cases filling most of the room. Some of the walls were lined with shelves too, of which had glass cabinet doors with ornate iron work lining the insides of them.

The windows were leaking sunlight into the store, he could see the dust particles floating in the rays. In the farthest corner, there were some plush leather chairs and some paintings hung on the walls. He looks around, feeling strangely at home, probably having something to do with the library back in the bunker.

Iris sits her box of books up on a high wooden counter close to the door so Dean follows her lead. There's an antique cash register and phone sitting there, Dean could stay here forever and ever, that was the type of atmosphere it was. He no longer wondered why Iris had such good business for a book shop. This place was almost magical. Sam would be in heaven.

He walks around the room looking over the books, finding an adjoining room filled with more shelves. At the back of the main room is a door, leading out onto what looks like a garden. Small and walled in, yeah, Dean thinks, magical. To the left there's another door which he opens and finds Iris's office.

The room is medium sized with no windows. There's a fire place, and the walls and floor of the same glossy wood finish. The desk is huge and magnificent, and Dean thinks Iris probably looks either adorable or terrifying behind. Then she'd probably look better on top...

Okay, not going there, he decides. Not yet, at least.

There's a clock ticking loudly on the mantle. Here in Iris's office he's surprised to find an entire wall of glass doored shelves devoted to books of the occult nature. She wasn't kidding, there really was a market for these kind of things. He smirks. If he and Sam sold the bunker's collection they'd probably be millionaires.

Nice thought. Sam would probably kill him before he sold a single page. He laughs softly and wanders back out, running fingers over the spines of the books left out in the open. Iris stands leaning against the counter watching him with an odd look in her eyes.

"So what do you think?" She asks, cocking her head to one side.

"I think," Dean says slowly, "I think this is more your home that your house."

She laughs and nods, "Yeah, you're probably right."

"You spend a lot of time here, you put in a lot of effort." She nods again and smiles up into his eyes as he stands in front of her.

"I like it," he whispers, wrapping his arms around her and pulling her closer, "I love it, it feels, feels like home."

"That's what I think too," she says softly, her gaze dropping down to stare at his lips for a second before jumping back to his eyes. He smiles and dips his head down to give her what she wants.

...

Present Day.

Sam watches the sun break up over the buildings across the street from Iris's bay window in her living room. The cat, which had startled him so bad the night before was sitting there, waiting for the first warm rays of sun to come. He sighs deep turning away from the window and gulping down the cooling coffee in his cup.

He's drunk so much coffee, he can smell it coming out his pores. But the good news is Dean had been lucid all night when he woke him. Iris had squinted up at him a few times from her place in the circle of Dean's arms, but had fallen back to sleep. He walks back to the kitchen and stands in the bedroom door checking on them.

They've slid down onto the pillows, Dean lying on his back, face turned into Iris's hair where her head lays on his shoulder. Dean's arm is still wrapped protectively around her, her hand lying relaxed and at home on his breast bone. Sam smirks at the domesticated picture his brother makes, but he can't help but think how happy and good he looks like this too. What a great couple the two of them make.

Dean with his rugged good looks, and height and build any man would be jealous of (if they didn't know Sam) and Iris with her small, feminine build and soft features. They couldn't be more opposite, yet they seemed to be perfectly acclimated to each other. Iris looks perfect and almost like a princess from within Dean's big arms.

And Dean? Dean looks like he was at home. Like a ship that has come into bay, a soldier finally resting, like a setting sun. All those things and his brother finding rest where they belong. Sam decides he likes that analogy, especially for his hard-working, self-sacrificing brother.

Rays of sunshine are sneaking around the back of the house and through the curtains in Iris's bedroom throwing light onto Dean's face and making him grimace in his sleep, scrunching up his nose. He stretches a little bit before groaning under his breath feeling the soreness in his bones.

Sam watches fondly as his brother's eyes flutter open. His fingers brush through Iris's hair as his eyes scan the room and light upon Sam. He smiles and stretches again, causing Iris to stir and object with a low, sleepy groan. Dean drags his hand down her arm comfortingly and gives Sam a look.

"Right," Sam says clearing is throat, "I'm going make some more coffee we should..."

"We need to talk," Dean finishes for him.

He nods and shuts the door behind him.

Dean sighs heavily and lets his hand run down Iris's arm one last time.

"Let me up," he says softly. She rolls over on her back off his shoulder, she echoes his sigh.

He sits up groaning the palm of one hand pressed gently to where the butterfly bandages is located. "Imma shower, you coming with?" He says, looking over his shoulder with a smirk.

She groans and throws an arm over her face, the other searching for his on the bedsheets. He gets her silent request and takes her hand, pulling her up with him.

"You good?" She asks quietly.

"Yeah," he nods, wrapping his arm around her shoulder pulling her towards the bathroom. "I'm just a little sore. It's fine."

"Is Sam gonna...?"

"It's going to be okay," he assures. "If he's going to yell, he'll wait till we get home and it's just me and him."

"That's not fair..."

He cuts her off, "I've spent most of my life yelling with Sam, it's perfectly fair, now get in the shower so we can get this over with."

...

Dean comes out of the bedroom first in clean clothes, hair wet. He gets a coffee cup out and pours him some coffee, looking at Sam who is watching him.

"What?" He asks innocently.

"Seriously?" Sam hisses, "You have clothes here? How could you not tell me?"

"Sam..." Dean sighs, but then closes his mouth as Iris walks out of the bedroom looking a little awkward, hair falling over her shoulders. Dean gets another cup and pours her some and hands it to her.

She takes it with a small smile and then looks to Sam, "Why don't we all go to the living room and talk there?" She asks, already heading in that direction. Sam supposes since it her house they should go. Dean's already following her so he really has no choice.

Dean sits at the end of the couch with a deep, tired sounding sigh and Iris sits beside him, curling her legs up into the couch. Dean's arm slips from the back of the couch to her shoulders. They both regard Sam expectantly while sipping the coffee.

"What are you looking at me for?" He asks a little snappishly, "Y'all are the ones who got attacked by demons and needed saving."

"Technically the saving was done with."

"What?" He asks.

Iris clears her throat and repeats herself, "The saving was done, I called you because Dean was hurt, not to save us."

Dean inclines his head in agreement, shrugging his shoulders at Sam's glare.

Sam just shuts his eyes momentarily to calm himself, "Okay, who exactly are you?"

"I..." She starts. But Dean cuts her off, his voice louder and former than it had been in the last twelve hours.

"Iris is my girlfriend, Sam."

Both, Iris and Sam look at him a little shocked, Sam a lot more so.

Sam takes a calming sigh, biting the inside of his mouth. "So you're saying you have a girlfriend and you didn't even bother to tell me?"

"It wasn't like that..." Sam pins Iris with a glare and she shuts up taking a sip of coffee instead of finishing her sentence.

"Dean, what the heck is going on? Because this just isn't you, this just doesn't line up and of course I'm suspicious..."

"It's okay Sam," Dean soothes, "I know it isn't really 'us'. But things are changing...have been changing and I met Iris and I actually had time to do this type of thing. I was scared to tell anyone about it, because I figured with our luck I'd probably jinx it as soon as the cat was out of the bag. I was gonna tell you, I was just waiting on the right time."

He looks entirely sincere, and Sam believes him, he knows his brother, knows when he's lying. Knows when he means what he's saying from the very depths of his heart. And that was now.

"Okay," he huffs," sitting down in one of the chairs across from Dean and Iris. This was the one thing he was worried about...the one thing about the whole girlfriend thing he hadn't experienced, the one thing he knew he couldn't understand without an explanation. "So how'd did you two find out about the hunting? I mean, did you tell her Dean, did she know before, how did it happen?"

Dean chuckles and pulls Iris closer against him with his arm around her shoulders. "It was actually your doing Sam, other wise we'd probably never have know."

Iris laughs, turning to look up into Dean's face, and Sam tries desperately not to think how cute they look. He's still mad, damn it!

"What are you talking about?" He asks trying to sound exasperated, but mostly just confused and tired of being on the outside of this whole situation.

...

Flashback.

After having lunch with Iris Saturday afternoon, Dean wanders into the library to find it empty and one little brother missing. He looks around, finding the laptop missing too, so he heads down to the file room that hides their dungeon. Sam would disappear in there for hours pulling up old files on random cases, finished, or left opened. Every few weeks he'd pull something new out to surprise Dean, seemed the Men of Letters would never run out of secrets.

"Sam?" He calls as he rounds the corner and stops in the door.

His little brother sits in the middle of the devil's trap on the dungeon's floor with files and books spread out all around him and another, fuller bag of those same chips beside him. He looks very content, taking notes from something a fe it looked like. He closes and tosses it away grabbing another.

"Dude," Dean starts, "Why the devil's trap?"

Sam looks up and shrugs, "Why not?" Dean supposes that makes sense.

"Whatcha' up to?" Dean asks.

"Oh c'mere, c'mere," he says motioning enthusiastically

Dean saunters in the rest of the way and stands over Sam's shoulder looking down on the files. "What?" He asks, not really making out anything.

"So check this out," Sam begins with. "You remember when Henry was here?"

Dean nods, "Kinda hard to forget your grandfather falling out of your motel closet."

"Right. Well, remember he said the Men of Letters associated with a few chosen hunters?"

Dean nods, "Yeah, they weren't only sexist, they were superior, stuck up douchebags."

Sam purses his lips to fight back the smile about to steal it's way on his face. "Okay, well turns out the Men of Letters didn't really come into contact with hunters as much as in most cases an established middle man."

"What?" Dean asks, now confused, he looks down over Sam's shoulder at the laptop screen somehow looking for answers there when Sam had been researching this for hours.

"Yeah, it appears that the middle man generally had a stable job and when the hunters or the Men of Letters needed to communicate they used these middle men to do the dirty work of actually doing the talking." Sam scrolls down on his laptop looking at the articles from the Men of Letters database, Dean studying deeply over his shoulder. "They had all sorts of jobs but the most common was something like a librarian or a bookshop owner or an accountant.

"Looks like they were all over the place, one in New York, Manhattan, Seattle, Salt Lake City, Boston..." Sam counted them off on his fingers, "...and of course one right here in Lebanon, close to the bunker."

"What?" Dean's head jerks up.

"Yeah," Sam scrolls down some more, "According to their files there was a bookshop in Lebanon that was run by a family of middle men through the years."

"Wait, so you're saying the job was hereditary?"

Sam nods, "From what I can tell the same family worked in the shop since before the Civil War. But just like everything else after the Men of Letters were debunked by Abaddon there's been nothing, all radio silence."

Dean's heart is racing in his chest. He feels like maybe he's about to hyperventilate. He wants to ask the question, but at the same time he doesn't want to know the answer. He swallows around the lump in his throat.

"What's the name, the name of the family?" He asks hoarsely, trying not to look so horribly, nauseatingly blindsided as he is, telling himself he should have seen this coming. Telling himself maybe it wasn't what he feared, maybe he was just paranoid.

It was time for him to get a win, damn it!

"Um," Sam scrolls down, scanning the pages for the information Dean wants, he'd already found it once but he can't remember, "Let me see...it was Aarons. The family's name was Aarons."

tbc...

PLEASE REVIEW, IF YOU LIKED THIS CHAPTER! ;)

thank you

(I just wanted to make quick mention of all my reviewers, but especially my guest reviewers who I can't send 'thank you' PMs to. THANK YOU! Thank you so much for your support and effort and time it means so much to me, it helps me to keep writing!)


	9. Chapter 8

Chapter 8.

Flashback.

"You're sure it's Aarons?" Dean hears himself ask as if he wasn't in his own body.

Sam nods, "Yeah, the last name in our records here is Gable Aarons, I think his extended family had moved away from Lebenon, it looks like somewhere down south." Sam clicks away on his laptop bringing up google maps. "Looks like the shop has been and is still standing on Wheeler Lane for the last seventy or so years. It was rebuilt once, and that was when they moved there from somewhere across town, it's right across from that coffee shop you like so much."

Sam sounds proud of himself, Dean can hardly keep up with or register his words. Iris...she had to know. She said her grandfather had left the shop to her, more probably to her family. But when they all died, Iris was all that was left so she moved out here for new start and to keep up the old business. But why? Why keep the store going after all these years? Unless they were more than just middle men? Maybe the Aarons had been hunters too?

Dean shivers just thinking about all the possibilities. If Iris and her family had been hunters then she most likely knew the name Winchester. He had told Iris both of their real names, because she was just some woman in a coffee shop. She was supposed to be normal and perfect and his saving grace.

He grinds his teeth together and stands straight striding out the door.

"Where you going?" Sam calls.

"Gotta take care of something," he says back over his shoulder. "I'll be back." Back to loneliness, back to being the guy life couldn't leave alone, back to being the laughingstock of all relationships ever.

He jumps into the impala and listens to AC/DC roaringly loud all the way into town. It was his anger music, how he vented. The screaming, the banging, thudding beats, it soothes him, it was releasing. A little bit. He hopes he doesn't loose it on Iris, that could get really ugly.

But the kicker was he didn't want to chew her out. He didn't want to yell, he didn't want to rant. He didn't want to make her sorry. Most of all it hurt. And he knows it's his fault, he was stupid enough to let himself get attached. Stupid enough to believe he could have happiness. He bites the inside of his mouth until it bleeds fighting back the tears wanting to come. It's just so unfair, that's all he can think. He deserves better. He's put so much time and effort learning to believe in himself, teaching Dean Winchester that he deserves a good life. And now that he's not going to get it it hurts.

Hurts like a bitch.

He drives back to the book shop and parks outside just looking at it for a moment. No wonder it had felt so much like home. It probably was built a lot like the bunker. The wooden walls and floors, the book shelves lined walls, the dark office with occult books and the fire and a loud clock. How many days had Sam and Dean spent in their library listening to the hours tick by?

He pictures Iris in the life he's lived and he doesn't want to see her there. He knew she'd gone through some painful things but he'd been so thankful that she had never known the pain he had known. Now he wasn't so sure. Now he wasn't sure he wanted to know the whole story.

He sighs and heaves himself out of the impala and trudges up the stairs with hesitant steps. But he can't leave this open and sore. Can't just turn his back on her and never speak to her again. Dean feels like he owes her more than that. He knows Iris deserves better than that. The bell above the door chimes in the quiet air announcing his arrival.

The bookshop looks as if nothing has changed, like no time has passed since he was last there. The sun is still shining in, dust is still drifting though it's rays. The books are still there...it still feels like Iris's home. Dean still loves it. He doesn't want to break the spell, doesn't want to ruin everything.

"Dean?" He turns his head to find her standing in the doorway of her office looking at him questioningly. Her hair is pulled back from her face, but still cascading down her back. She's removed the scarf exposing her soft, white neck, her eyes are bright and curious. "What are you doing back?" He doesn't answer quick enough and she's taking a step towards him. "Is everything okay? Are you okay?"

He puts out a hand and she stops a few yards away from him. "What was your grandfather's name?" He asks in a low husky voice.

She shakes her head, taking another step towards him, "Why do you need to know? I don't understand why..."

"Just tell me his name, damn it!" He yells.

She freezes and then takes a precautionary step back. "Gable, his name was Gable Aarons."

Dean's insides twist up and writhe around inside of him. He shuts his eyes, clenching his jaw.

"Oh my god." He opens his eyes to find Iris standing staring at him, pale, eyes wide. "You know." She breathes out.

It's not a question. It's a statement. They stare at each other for a few movements, before Iris turns around and sits on one of the arm chairs and wraps her arms around herself. "How do you know? How did you find out?"

He's still a little shell shocked, but he cocks an eyebrow, looking at her. "Dean Winchester? Dean Winchester." He repeats driving his point home, hoping she's heard his name. Knowing it will make this conversation thousands of times easier.

She closes her eyes and Dean watches her jaw clench. "Dean Winchester, as in THE Dean Winchester. Sammy, as in Sam Winchester." She shakes her head with a self-loathing laugh, and covers her face with one hand as she leans on the arm of the chair with the other. "I can't believe...I can't believe I'm so stupid."

Dean is silent just watching her, his heart aching. Now that he's here and she's here, he doesn't want to give this up. He doesn't want to call it quits just because things weren't what they seemed. She's sitting there silent and strong and as beautiful as ever and...

"How did you find out?" She asks, her voice quiet and her eyes shining as she looks up at him.

"Sam found your family's name in the Men Of Letters files, and that there had been a book shop in Lebanon. I knew it had to be you."

She looks up quickly, surprised, "The Men of Letters? I thought they all died?"

"Me and Sam are legacies apparently, Henry Winchester, our grandfather, was one. He gave us the key to the bunker." He explains, taking a few steps forward to lean against the end of one of the book shelves.

"The bunker is still standing?" She asks sounding excited.

"You know about the bunker?" He asks frowning.

"After my grandfather died and I came here, there was a letter with his will. The letter explained all about the Men of Letters and the bunker and the radio silence. He'd assumed everyone had been annihilated." Dean watches the light of interest come back into her eyes, she was getting over the shock he was too, maybe this wasn't so bad.

He nods, "Most everyone was, but Henry came here, to the future, and gave us the key before Abaddon eventually got him."

"Wow, that's a story I'm gong in to need the rest of." She says, shifting a little in her chair. Dean's seen that look before, it's that sour face someone one makes when there's more dirty secrets to be ferreted out.

"So you moved out here and found out about all this when your grandfather died?" Dean couldn't imagine the shock of being given all this information cold turkey.

She makes a pained face, "Not exactly. Years and years ago my grandmother and grandfather had a fight, she left him, that's all I know about it. I'm going to guess it had something to do with the men of letters and the fact they only gave information and not help to the hunters. She took the kids and moved to North Carolina where my dad met and married my mother." She sighs, smiling a little, tears glistening in her eyes. "There were three of us, me and then one sister, older then me, and I had a brother, he was a couple years younger than me. We were raised as hunters."

Dean raises his eyes brows in surprise. Iris did an amazing job covering it, he'd have never guessed. But he finds it doesn't take away from her at all. Instead all he can see is her pain at recalling the story of him.

"I don't know what happened, I don't know what did it but I came home from a salt and burn one night to find the house burned to ashes and my family dead...all of them." She bites her lip and looks down and away.

"So I ran," she looks back up to him shrugging her shoulders helplessly. "I knew we had family out here so this is where I ran. I found out my grandfather was dead and his lawyer gave me the will and a letter explaining an the Men of Letters. Since then I've been building the business back up, most of the lore books were still here." She smiles through her tears.

"I had never seen or heard of half of the books and lore that I found here, I'm guessing they belong to you guys now, but it's been an amazing learning experience."

"So you gave up hunting?" Dean asks.

She nods, "Yes, I don't ever want to go back to that. But there are still some hunters who come to me for information. I like to think I'm still making some difference."

Dean nods. This was all a little much. Iris was a born and bred hunter? She knew what his life had been, knew who he was, the things he'd done. How much did she know? He was trying to get away from that man. He and Sam were changing their lives, slowly but surely.

Iris is watching him with still very big eyes. He can see the fear and the uncertainty in them. But still that same woman. That same woman he was falling for. The same woman he had fallen for. Was he really going to give that up because she knew about his past? Knew about the man he had been? Was she really not capable of making him a better man just because she knew about the horrors he had seen and done?

"So, where do we go from here?" She asks so quietly it's almost a whisper.

He shrugs and buries his hands in his pockets. "The way I see it we could call this whole thing a big mistake or...we could actually try to make this work. I mean, both of us knowing the truth makes things a lot more simple. I think we..."

Iris stands and Dean stops talking as she approaches him slowly. Like she's afraid he might bolt if she moves to fast. She stops when their toe to toe and places hands on his chest smoothing his jacket down, then framing his face with her soft hands.

She's staring so intently at him Dean thinks she must be trying become a part of him by falling into his eyes. She cocks her head to one side, her gaze wandering over his face and then back to his eyes. She lets her thumb graze over the arch of his cheekbone. He finds himself leaning into it before he can stop himself.

"So this is Dean Winchester." She says softly. He's watching her, unsure what this is. Unsure why she's still here, why she hasn't started running yet?

"Iris," he says, looking into her eyes, "Yes, I still hunt, but I'm not, I'm not a ...that's not who I am anymore."

"Sh," she says, a thumb running along his bottom lip. "I know, me neither."

He lifts a hand to touch her hair, runs his fingers through it and down to the longest tips of it at the small of her back. "I don't want this to be a mistake." He says, then leans to kiss her. To drown any other words, to stop anything else from coming between them.

Iris lets him, makes no move to pull away so he nibbles on her lower lip, lets his lips drift down her cheek making her gasp when his teeth close around her earlobe. Her hands leave his face and pull gently at his hair as she feels the wet heat of his mouth on her neck. She doesn't realize the low moan was hers until Dean growls deep in his throat.

In the blink of an eye he spins her around and presses her firm against the shelf, licking into her mouth in a passionately-hazy kiss. She moans into his mouth again as he presses one of his legs in between hers and rocks upwards. Her hand tightens into a fist around his collar as his teeth scrap across her collar bone in a sloppy love-bite.

His hand is slipping up the back of her shirt to find silky, hot skin even as both of hers are slipping under the lapels of his jacket and pushing it from his shoulders and down his arms. He's left gasping, nosing into her hair as she finds that place behind his ear and kitten licks it rewarding her with his first groan.

He hides his face in her neck as it rips from his throat and she loves the way she can feel it rumble where their bodies are aligned. His calloused hand on her bare skin is setting her skin on fire and sending her into a blind frenzy as he places open mouthed kisses along her neck and towards her back. She feels his fingers growing bolder and slipping up her back and under her bra straps.

She pulls away slightly, just enough to whisper in his ear.

"Unlatch it." Dean shivers with her hot breath on his ear and the sensitive skin of his neck. He gently undoes her bra under her shirt. She grips the hem of his sweater and pulls up causing him to slip his hands from her shirt and hair so she can pull it over his head and off his arms.

The feeling of her small and soft but sure hands on his bare skin is almost too much for Dean. He kisses her deep to distract himself, their tongues swirling together as Iris's fingers dance down his sides and then back to splay flat on his chest.

When Iris pulls Dean's sweater off him her breath catches at the sight of all that perfect skin stretched over rolling and rippling muscles. She could stare at him all day but decides that is going to have to wait as his leg grinds up against her again and she feels one of his big hands run from the back of her knee up the outside of her thigh hiking up the skirt with it.

Dean spreads his hand to feel as much as he can of the soft, creamy skin of her leg, he breaks the kiss to gasp in big heaving breaths of her air as he leans his forehead against hers. She spreads a hand along the side of his neck and drops her head down to press some wet, sloppy kisses to the bare skin of his chest.

Dean grunts and throws his head back as he cradles her head against him, laughing shakily as he feels what she's doing. Sucking and biting a mark into the skin of the right side of his chest opposite the tattoo.

He tugs on her hair bringing her head back up, loving the wild look in her eyes, the way they're dilated to nearly black. He chuckles, "I didn't know that was allowed," he rumbles out, kissing from behind her ear down to the juncture between her neck and shoulder.

Iris lifts her hips further against him as she feels his teeth sink gently into her skin and suck it in between his lips bringing the blood to the surface so he'll leave a reddish purple bruise there for tomorrow. Her head falls with a thunk against the book shelf as she bites her lip with the sensations swirling around her mind, clouding all her senses.

She guides his hands to the hem of her shirt whispering urgently into his hair, "Off, off, get it off." He laughs again and pulls the garment over her head, getting a face full of hair. She giggles, but then gasps at the feeling of cool air on her bare skin. Dean's warm calloused fingers slip the straps from her shoulders, her bra falling to the floor beside the pile of their clothes.

She watches the way his eyelids hood over his bright green eyes almost closed as he runs hands like fire brands up her naked sides and presses sloppy kisses to the newly exposed skin. She gasps as he pulls her closer, molding them together into one. She hardly notices as he lowers her to the lush Persian rug on the floor.

All she's aware of is the way his eyes never leave hers as he hovers over her. There's something in his eyes. She's seen it briefly a few times before. She dares to think that maybe it's love. Dean Winchester maybe loves her. She lets her hands drift over his arms and shoulders and then one presses over the anti-possession tattoo just bellow is collarbone over his heart.

She knows he's found hers when she feels his lips pressed in a kiss on the skin covering her ribs. Her tattoo sits high, just under and to the side of her left breast under her arm. She threads the fingers of her other hand into his hair as he comes back to her lips for another kiss and a battle of tongues for dominance that she isn't really sincerely fighting.

She thinks maybe Dean Winchester is the best thing that's ever happened to her. She's heard the stories, she knows all about him and his brother. But the man she met and fell in love with was not the arrogant, selfish warrior the hunter's rumored him to be. She let Dean be the first in two years to take her completely apart and put her back together again and she's not afraid. She thinks Iris Aarons...maybe loves Dean Winchester too.

...

That night in Iris's bedroom she lays with her cheek pressed against Dean's chest, his arm thrown over the pillows around her. Their hands lay laced together on his stomach, he's watching the way she threads her fingers in and out of his repeatedly. Loves the way he can feel each puff of warm air on his bare skin as she breathes.

"I really don't want this to be a mistake." He says softly, and she smiles at the way his voice rumbles in his chest under her ear. She nods in agreement with him so he's surprised when she starts talking in slow voice.

"When I got back home that day it was so quiet. There were a few flames still crackling but other than that it was silent all around." She swallows thickly and grips his hand tighter. "They were all there lying in the grass. Some of them were burned, the others were just dead, throats slit." Dean listens in respectful silence. He's actually really surprised she's talking to him about her family. He finds himself tearing up at the pain in her voice, finds himself gripping her hand back.

"There was nothing to be done," she whispers, tears falling to Dean's skin from her face. "They were just gone, I never saw it coming. And they were just lying there cold and nothing I could do to bring them back or avenge them. There was only one thing to do."

Dean runs his hand down her arm and presses a soft kiss into her hair as the sob breaks from her, knowing what she's about to say, knowing the pain she felt. Knowing it was time for her to talk to somebody about this.

"I built them, four pyres, two for my parents an two for my brother and sister. And they laid there together and burned together and I did the honorable thing...gave them a hunter's funeral. But I was the one who was alone and it was so quiet, and all around the only sound I could hear I didn't even realize were my own screams until my throat got sore and I couldn't speak anymore." She chews on the inside of her mouth for a moment. "And ever since then, it's just been me in this big old world alone because I was too scared to feel that pain again. That pain of having something and then having nothing at all. I got used to being alone. It didn't hurt, but it didn't feel especially good either."

She sniffs and wipes tears off her cheeks as she leans up on her elbow and looks down into his face. "Then you came along and you made me want to be with you. You made me want to not be lonely anymore. So I guess what I'm trying to say is I don't want to be alone anymore, so whatever it takes, I'll do whatever it takes to make this not a mistake."

He looks over her face, the wetness from her tears glistening from among the after glow of the sex they'd had. He brushes pieces of hair from her face that stick with the wetness of her tears. "Okay," he whispers. "Okay," he reassures, as he hugs her closer to him and tries to silence her fears with kisses and the warmth and closeness of his body.

Dean and Iris slept all the way through their first night together. They woke warm and happy and safe, their fingers still threaded together pressed between their bodies. They never talked about their relationship being a mistake again.

...

Present Day.

Sam holds his hands up as if he can physically shield himself from his brother's words.

"Okay, wow, Dean. All sorts of information I didn't need." He scrunches up his nose and gulps down some coffee for lack of something other to do to live out the awkwardness.

Dean laughs, "Well, you wanted to know how it was your doing we got together."

Iris arches an eyebrows at Sam from where she leans against Dean, holding his hand. "Yeah Sam," she says, and Dean recognizes her mischievous tone, "Thanks for the awesome, hot sex."

Sam groans and just covers his face with his hand. Dean laughs, pulling Iris impossibly closer, "That's my girl," he chuckles. She nudges him affectionately in the ribs with her elbow and smiles up into his face so he bestows a kiss on the edge of her smile.

Sam finds his annoyance fading away as he watches the exchange and a smile slips it's way onto his face. He clears his throat and Dean looks back over to him with a happy, warm light in his eyes that makes Sam's heart feel kind of full seeing his big brother so happy. Sam finds himself liking Iris, she is obviously making Dean happy, he's now scarred with the knowledge that the sex is very good...

"Alright, well, I'm glad you two are happy and stuff," he starts out, "But we still haven't got to the demon part."

Both their faces fall almost comically. Sam thinks it's probably a good thing he's there because otherwise the two would be so busy fawning over each other an entire hell's worth of demons could have stormed in and they wouldn't have noticed. They were so in love with each other even Sam had to roll his eyes at the sweetness of the looks and touches between them and that was saying something.

Sam didn't actually think they were aware of the fact themselves, but they were helplessly and hopelessly wrapped up in each other to a disturbing point. At least disturbing for Dean Winchester. But Sam still has to smile, because this is a beautiful, gentle side of his brother he's never seen before.

Dean rolls his eyes looking at Iris and sits back with a huff, "I told you to let me have the stupid book."

"You did not!" She retorts, "You gave it to me."

"Well, I thought you were selling it to a client and that was before I knew you used to be a hunter!" He shoots back.

"Whatever, it isn't my fault," she says sitting back with an adorable pout.

Dean sighs, "You're right, it's my fault I should have done something before, shouldn't have let you..."

"Hey, hey," she says stopping him right there, even as Sam is about to go into full convincing-Dean-Winchester-that-Dean-Winchester-is-not-to-blame-for-everything mode.

"I didn't mean it like that," she says. "It's nobody's fault." Sam watches in amazement as Dean actually seems to be listening to her. "Demons are demons, they're going to be terrorizing innocent people whether they have the stupid book or not."

"What book?" Sam nearly shouts. Officially tired of not being in the know, and watching his brother and Iris fall into each other's eyes.

"That's our real issue," Iris says, "We don't really know. Dean nor I could read the text. My client said it was ancient Mandarin, but I don't think it was because I could have translated that." Both Dean and Sam's eyebrows go up.

"Where's the book at?" Sam asks.

Iris snorts a laugh, "Not here, not after it nearly got us killed."

"Right," he sighs.

"I got pics," Dean offers, scrolling through his photos to find them for Sam.

Sam takes the phone from Dean, his breath clogging in his throat when he finds the text strangely familiar.

"Dean..."

"Yeah Sammy? What is it?"

"Are you sure you were attacked by demons?"

Dean opens his mouth to answer right away then pauses. "Well, they weren't sporting any back eyes, but they were strong and a bitch to kill. We didn't get 'em all, one ran after they figured out we didn't have the book. What? You know what it says?"

"This isn't Mandarin," he states hoarsely, "This is code, this is..."

Dean's head jerks up to meet Sam's frightened gaze.

"The Book of the Damned." They say at the same time. Their eyes wide with disbelief, something like fear roiling in Sam's belly. A feeling like the unpleasant surprise you feel when you meet up with a dreaded ex filling Dean.

"Shit." Sam surmises.

"We have to get out of here," Dean says, pulling Iris to her feet with him, with an arm around her shoulders.

"Too late." Sam nearly whispers even as Iris's front door trembles as a heavy blow falls on it from outside. Of all the things the boys had ever faced the Book of the Damned and the Stynes had probably scared Sam the most of all. He was prepared for most everything. But not for parts of the darkest time of his and Dean's life to come knocking back at their door.

Dean looks at the door, face draining of color, even as it gives away against the might of the second blow. It swings open and a hugely tall and built man walks in. He's clothed in a black dress coat and slacks. His blonde, spiked hair and freckles proclaim his southern heritage even before the disgustingly lazy drawl does.

"Where is my book?" He demands slowly, eyes lighting on Iris even as Dean pushes her behind him. Quicker than Sam can even think the Styne is on Dean and Iris. A booted foot is heading for his brother's neck and one of the Styne's large hands is fisted in Iris's long hair. He has to think quick.

tbc...

PLEASE REVIEW! ;)

thank you


	10. Chapter 9

Chapter 9.

Flashback.

Weeks pass by in a happy blur for Dean and Iris. The Winchesters only had to leave town once for a hunt. Dean had wrapped it up in record timing, slept for five hours and then had left to spend some time with Iris. Sam was giving him space, Dean wasn't really sure what he was thinking. But it's going well with Iris and at home so he decides things can go on like this for a little while longer.

He'd eaten a late lunch with Sam, so he showers and then heads out to find Iris and take her out for some supper and then maybe a movie on her bed...or other activities. They have supper at a cafe Iris likes, Dean thought it was only okay, but Iris was the one with the official day job so he lets her choose.

It's already late evening and dark outside by the time they're leaving and Iris has her arm through his, their fingers twined together. He feels happy and light and safe...and loved. Appreciated. Iris likes him, Iris needs him. Being needed has always been something Dean needed. He thrives on it, being what someone needs. That was where the whole hero/hunter thing came from.

Iris and Sam were teaching him that he meant more than just being needed by strangers to save their lives. That he was good enough to be needed by the people he loved and deserved to be loved back. God, they were making a good man out of him, a girl, but a good man too. And if the world didn't need saving he had no excuse to not be a good man.

So he slips into the impala and lets Iris hold his hand as they drive back to her house. She's in the kitchen popping popcorn and getting him a beer as he pulls the comforter back from the bed so they can get under the covers and untying his boots to slip them off. He's standing in the door in his socked feet watching her prepare their drinks and snacks when she glances up, her eyes serious.

"I may have a problem." She says simply.

"What kinda problem we talking about here?" He asks. "A warm and cuddly problem or our kind of problem?"

She smirks, "Normal problems aren't warm and cuddly, but yes, our kind of problem."

He tenses and walks into the kitchen to lean against the counter as she sprinkles seasoning onto the popcorn. "Okay, what you got?"

"It may be nothing." She cautions, not wanting to alarm him too much seeing the way he's tensing up and 'goodbye' to his current comfortable looseness.

"Okay, well what's your maybe-nothing-problem?" It's his turn to smirk, and she rolls her eyes.

"Okay, so you remember that book I bought at the auction a few weeks back?..."

"Yeah, the one you stole from me."

She shoots him another look. "You gave it to me. As I was saying...I notified my client nearly right away, but there was no contact until a few days ago. They wanted to meet at the shop, but something was off." She pauses what she's doing and turns around to lean against the counter beside him.

"Firstly, the whole business relationship was anonymous on their side. Which isn't unusual. But most of the time anonymous clients want their product left in a public spot where they'll pick it up after the bill is settled over the phone or Internet.

"They wanted to come here and examine the book and pay in person. That's what they specifically said 'in person'. I didn't like it, I said no that we would stick to our previous agreement, they would leave the payment at my bank after they picked up the book at the post office.

They weren't nice about it, said to forget it and that they'd get the book some other way." She shudders and leans closer towards Dean, her voice soft. "I thought they meant they'd just get the book from another buyer but it was just a few hours before there was a car down the road from the store."

Dean tenses again, knowing he'd been out of town. If anything bad had happened Iris would have been on her own. He glances nervously out the window even as she smiles up at him.

"Don't worry so hard, I'm fine, though I'm pretty sure I've been being followed."

Dean frowns and follows her into the bedroom with his beer in hand. She climbs up onto the bed with the bowl of popcorn in between her crossed legs. He drops down beside her on his stomach, letting the fizzy brew sting the inside of his mouth for a moment as he leans up on his elbows.

"So what makes this our kind of problem? I mean, of course I'll help you with any problem you got," he sends her a cheeky grin, and she slaps his arm smiling. "But what about this is of the paranormal?"

She sighs, "After I saw the car outside, I took the book off my shelves in my office and put it in the safe. I can't explain it but, when it was in my hands it just felt wrong, felt like it was compelling me to do something, you know it set off the spidey senses. As soon as I put it down it stopped."

"But it wasn't like that before, when we touched it at the auction." Dean says, sounding puzzled.

She nods, "And every time I've handled it or looked at it since then. But as soon as somebody showed up looking for it, it almost took on a life of its own. I mean, I'm warded against just about everything I can be but there were some weird air drafts and whispers today."

"Sounds fishy alright." He muses, he steals some popcorn from her, "Maybe whoever wanted it cast a location spell on it or something, so if you were touching it it was pulling you towards whoever was looking for it."

"I guess that could happen..." She says thoughtfully, "But," she smiles brightly at him. "I just wanted you to know just in case something does come of it."

He winks at her, "I got your back, baby." She smiles and and leans down to meet his upturned face for a kiss. She presses a hand to the side of his cheek and lets her thumb drift over his facial hair.

"Love your five o'clock shadow," she whispers, he chuckles and presses up into her lips for another dry kiss.

"We better stop while we're ahead if we're gonna watch this movie." He says, the timbre of his voice already dropping, causing a wave of goosebumps to wash over Iris.

"Okay," she whispers in agreement. He scoots up to lay beside her, and so he can access the popcorn bowl. She turns into him, setting the bowl on his stomach and laying her head on his shoulder, sighing deeply. He smiles and raises his arm to wrap around her shoulders, she sighs as she settles. Liking the nearly silent chuckle that rumbles from his chest.

She'd been admittedly scared. And Dean hadn't been in town. Now she's safe beside him, he's reassuring her and holding her in his arms. He gave her a wink and promised he'd be there, and now she just wants to relax and forget about her problems and enjoy being with Dean.

Dean feels the same way. He realizes now, while he loves being in a relationship how stressful it is. He has more to worry about now than just Sam. His hold on Iris tightens and he breathes in lungfuls of her sweet smelling hair, that perfume that had clung to the impala and ghosted it with her spirit. He'd nearly laughed when Sam had caught it and freaked out.

It's only been a few weeks but he would die before he gave her up, the fierce, protective love he finds in his heart actually scares him a little. When he realizes how she's stolen into his heart he has to smile and look down at her in awe of this person that has literally stolen his heart. He hadn't even realized that he loved her.

As the colors of the TV dance over their faces and the sounds wash over them Dean slips off into a peaceful sleep, head against hers, fingers lax against her side. Iris smiles from within his arms and revels in the feeling of his slow breaths rising and falling in his chest which she's resting her cheek on.

Dean rouses when the film ends and grunts as he stretches causing Iris to look up at him with a mischievous look on her face.

"That was a good movie, yeah?" He just nudges her with his elbow and she laughs.

"You gonna fault me for wanting to sleep with you while I can? Those few nights I was gone felt like years," hand drifts down her arm until he finds her hand and then let's her thread her fingers into his, squeezing.

"You're spoiling me for sleeping anywhere else," he says next, "I sleep the best when with you."

She laughs and shakes her head, before jumping up from the bed to stand looking down at him. "Well, c'mon, we better go get you some coffee, cause I had something else in mind besides just sleeping in bed."

"Iriiiiiiis," he objects, stretching again, looking up at her.

She grabs his hands and throws all her weight into dragging him off the bed, she grits her teeth with effort as Dean starts to slowly be pulled from the mattress. "Come on..." She grunts, the air pushing from her lungs with every pull, trying to get him off the bed.

He arches an eyebrow at her, watching her efforts with a laugh bubbling up in his throat. "What are you doing?" He asks fondly, then gives her one tug, bringing her falling over him. "Just give me a minute, okay?" She laughs and nods.

"Do you happen to have any ticklish spots?" She asks nonchalantly, fingers slowly dragging over him.

"That is something for me to know and for you to try and find out." He says, feeling now was a good time to rise before she tried to discover for herself.

She laughs from where she lies on the bed after he slipped out from under her in a flash. "I'll take that as a yes, that you're ticklish." She gets up and slips on her shoes as Dean laces his boots back up. "I guess I'll have to get up with Sam to learn all your ticklish spots and all the things that aggravate you."

"Mhm," he nods, "Wait. No, you two together will be the death of me, I'll just have to keep you away from him as long as possible so you don't corrupt each other."

She snorts handing him his jacket, grabbing a light sweater for herself, "C'mon," she takes his hand, and they slip out of the house. She locks the door, and then they head, hand and hand, down the street towards their coffee shop.

They're halfway there when she feels Dean tense next to her like a porcupine prickling up all its spikes. He stops in his tracks and she presses herself in a line to his side, he lets an arm fall around her shoulders and pull her close.

"What is it?" She asks low, almost a whisper.

"Someone's tailing us." He murmurs. She tenses and he passes a calming hand down her arm. "They're behind me," he says, breath hot on her ear. Iris standing pressed against him is standing slightly to the side, her arm slinking around his waist.

She lays her head on his shoulder, making it look like they were hugging. Her eyes fly over the street and houses behind Dean picking up on the dark shadow of a man beside one of the old houses.

"I see him," she says, not making any sudden movements to give them away.

"Okay," Dean breathes, "My gun is in my waist band," he must feel her quicker breath, because the arm around her shoulders tightens and his hand gives her another reassuring rub. "Wrap your other arm around my neck. Pull out the gun, cock it and hold it on him, okay? It's gonna have to be fast."

She snorts, "Just because I don't hunt anymore, doesn't mean I don't practice." She feels his smirk against her cheek.

"Okay, you ready?" She nods, and then does it.

Dean's colt leaves his waistband lightening fast, his ears barely even pick up on the clicking sound of it being cocked. He barely even felt Iris's other arm wrap around his neck, but now she stands with one arm, against his side under his arm and the other over his shoulder. He blinks in surprise.

Iris stands, both hands on the pistol after cocking it. She levels it cooly at the head of the man across the street from them.

"We see you," she says loud enough for him to hear.

She holds the gun steady in one hand as she unwraps her arm from around Dean's neck and steps away from him so he can turn around. She feels her adrenaline and excitement vamp up at the way the street lights sparkle in the hard, coldness of his eyes. She brings her other hand back up to the gun, training it on the man relentlessly.

Dean lights his eyes on the man across the street and can see he's a big guy. He also knows he can't take the chances of Iris getting hurt, especially since she's the one holding the gun on him.

"Walk away," he demands, in a threatening voice, the deep, hardness of it rumbling in his chest and Iris feels a shiver run down her spine. She can see him hesitate even from her place across the street and then he turns and disappears into the night. Iris sighs in relief and turns to smile at Dean's pinched expression.

"C'mon," is all he says. She lets him have the gun back and he wraps his free arm back around her shoulders, turning them back the way they came. She's never seen him so concentrated or so serious. She has to take two steps for his every one, she actually shivers a little at the stoniness of his expression.

When they come in sight of the impala sitting in front of her house he pulls her into a quicker pace by her arm. "Where is the book now?" He asks.

"At the shop in my safe." She answers, looking up at him, trying to catch what he's thinking.

"Okay," he says, his face relaxing a little. "Why don't you just come home with me tonight?" He asks, pulling out his keys and unlocking the passenger door and standing beside it.

"To the bunker?" She asks in disbelief, and then her face lights up in a smile, "Yeah! Let's go."

He smiles at her enthusiasm, and shuts the door behind her as she slips into the impala. He keeps careful watch all around for the tell tale silhouette of their stalker. "I hope Sam's in bed," he mumbles.

As he opens his door and sits he catches sight of movement in the corner of his eye. The impala is cranked and skidding into a start before his door is all the way shut. The rumble of her engine isn't enough to cover the sound of three rapidly fired gunshots. Thankfully none of them hit their mark.

"Oh, c'mon!" Dean shouts, looking over his shoulder. "Leave Baby outta this!" Iris laughs even as she looks behind them, to watch the dark silhouette of a man disappear into the night.

"Is he gone?" Dean asks.

"Yeah, he's gone back down the street. I can't see him anymore." She responds, turning around and making herself comfortable in the seat. She grins at him, thankful to see the seriousness finally leaving his expression.

"Okay, that was pretty awesome," he said, thinking back to Iris's arms around him, strong and sure while holding the gun.

"Told you I wasn't out of practice." She smirks, unconsciously going on a quest to find his hand where she knows it's waiting for hers upturned on Baby's seat.

"No ma'am, you aren't." She laughs, squeezing his fingers and he returns the favor.

They're both still high on adrenaline and the rush of adventure when Dean pulls up in front of the bunker. Iris gets out and wraps her sweater a little tighter around her.

"Whoa...spooky." She says, he smiles and takes her hand again, carefully leading her down the dark steps and inserts the key, unlocking the door and leading her in after him. He shuts the door as quietly as he can and locks it again.

"Wow," she whispers, looking down from the top of the stairs into the map room and the library.

Dean joins her and smiles at the surprised expression on her face. She shoots him a bright smile and allows him to pull her down the steps and into the library.

"Imma go see what Sammy's up to," he says. "If he's awake, we'll have this very awkward introduction now, and if he's asleep I'll just sneak you in like a naughty teenager."

She laughs and waves him off. He disappears down a hall. She runs fingertips down the sleek, worn wood of the desks, and she likes the picture two laptops sitting opposite each other paints. She smiles at the whiskey canisters and glasses on one of the shelves. Remembering how at almost her first glance of Dean, she'd thought he'd look so hot sipping on something stronger than coffee.

She hears footsteps coming down the hall and is preparing herself for the great Sam Winchester when only Dean shows. He's grinning childishly and looking relieved, which probably meant Sam was asleep.

"Sam's already in bed, so it looks like it's just you and me baby."

"Alright," she says, taking his outstretched hand.

"Hold on now," he says smirking. "Sam's in bed, but he's pretty restless which means he's gonna hear everything. Including your foots steps."

She frowns, "I'll tiptoe, really Dean this place is huge there's no way he'll be able to hear me."

"Sam is a hunter," Dean says, pulling her to him, "The best damn hunter I know." He smirks, "Well, except for me. But that's beside the point. He will hear you, Iris. So get on my back."

She rolls her eyes and tilts her head to start and argue. He bends just in time to stop her words with a kiss. His tongue fire hot on her lips for a moment stealing her breath away as she closes her eyes. He draws back almost immediately. She finds herself swaying forward to find him but she opens her eyes when he chuckles.

"Sh," he presses again, "He'll hear you." She smiles and sighs, shaking her head.

He motions for her to jump on his back so she finally gives up and using her hands on his strong shoulders jumps onto his back and wraps her legs around his waist. He uses hands on her thighs to hold her farther up so she won't fall.

She presses her face into his jacket between his shoulder blades to muffle her giggles.

"Shut up," he says, turning his head to glance at her. "You're gonna make me laugh too."

She just shakes her head and continues to laugh all the way to his room. When he finally makes it to his room he shuts the door behind him, then drops her on his mattress.

"Remind me to never go on any secret missions with you," he says, smiling ruefully at her flushed face and still smiling lips.

She rises to her knees and shuffles until she's in front of him. Grabbing his coat lapels she drags him against her, one arm snaking around his neck, the other gripping his coat collar. Dean closes his eyes as she kisses him. Starting off soft, but then licking into his mouth with those little moans that were always the ruin of him. It's when he feels her teeth pull on his bottom lip before she starts breathing hot, wet kisses to his neck that he realizes where this is going.

He pulls away from her with a soft groan of his own. Hands running over her hair and coming to cup her cheeks. "Sam. Will. Hear." He reiterates.

She slips her hands up his shirt, her touch branding hot against the smooth skin of his chest as she explores. "Are you really not gonna make love to me the first time you brought me home because your brother MIGHT hear?" She asks, spit slick lips hot against his ear.

That breaks his resolve. Hands grip the sides of her head roughly, holding her still so he can invade her mouth, make it his again, map out the known expanse of it all over again. He has to wash away the fear he had felt out on that street. The fear that she'd be stolen from him all too soon. The feeling of powerlessness, no way to stop it, no way to save her.

He feels her fingernails scratching just this side of painful down his sides, and his hands leave her head to grab her hands and raise them over her head in order to strip her shirt off.

"Hey," she whispers against his lips. She grabs his hands and pushes him away for the edge of the bed so she can stand. "I'm right here," she reassures. "I'm not going anywhere." She reiterates, slipping off her shoes.

Achingly slow she takes a few steps away from him and grabs the hem of her own shirt pulling it off and over her head. She could drown in his heated gaze and the way his eyes darken so there's only a thin line of green left. Deft fingers unzip the skirt from her hips letting it fall to the floor, exposing thigh-high socks and black lace panties matching the bra she's wearing.

She reaches up, pulling out several Bobby-pins that are keeping her curls from her face and then walks back towards him. Dean watches her, more than just lust reflecting in his glistening eyes. There's awe and love there looking down on her; he can't believe that she's his.

She pushes his jacket off his shoulders and then he takes over from there. He strips out of the jacket and plaid over-shirt, taking off the t-shirt and kicking off his boots. He slips a hand to the side of her face, thumb grazing over her cheek bone, palm and other fingers against her neck and in her hair.

He leans down and kisses her lips gently, lips grazing across her cheek to her ear, distracting her. His hands slip to her waist and he pushes her to the mattress. She lets out a supposed 'oomph' but goes willingly, laying looking up at him with shining eyes. Shaking a little in expectation of what he's about to do.

He growls deep in his chest at the sight of all that creamy skin laid out glowing in the low lamp light. Hands starting at socked feet, they drift up her legs. She spreads them, making enough room for him to kneel in between them. He hovers over her, eyes meeting hers, and she shivers at the intensity in his gaze.

Hands leave her thighs, where they had been caressing the silky softness. He falls forward on them, lowering himself to engage her in a hot, messy kiss more tongue and teeth than lips. Her arms wrap around his shoulders using the leverage to rock up into him, causing him to growl again.

In a flash she finds herself flat against the mattress again, arms wrenched from around his neck and stretched far above her head held down by one of his big hands. She gasps at the feeling of Dean pressing open mouthed kisses to her neck and down her chest, over to her stomach. She looks down to find him leaving trails of reddish purple bruises behind him.

She arches up into him at the feeling of his teeth scraping over her hip bone, sucking what felt like a permanent hickey into the white skin. "Oh my god, Dean," she gasps out.

He comes back over her, grinning devilishly, pressing a kiss to her lips, letting their tongues play for a moment. "Sh," he breathes against her ear. "Sam will hear."

He releases her hands and reaches under her undoing the latch of her bra. She moves quicker than him, slipping it off and tossing it to the floor somewhere. He blinks up in sunrise at her when she flips them and straddles his legs. His eyes roll back into his head with a loud groan as she rocks her ass into his lap.

"Sh," she whispers, tongue licking around the shell of his ear, "Sam will hear."

She giggles as he growls again and rolls them over, hands starting at her waist and groping soft, creamy skin. She closes her eyes in bliss, feeling her body writhing under him on its own accord, everything far out of her control now. She loves how it's all up to Dean, how Dean loves to reduce her to this whimpering mess.

She does whimper when his hand stretches her arms above her again, stretching her out in one tantalizing line. He loves the desperate sounds she makes as he tastes every inch of her skin. The way she gasps as he licks wetly across skin just to blow cool air over it, causing her to tremble and plead with him to just hurry up and give her what she needs.

He chuckles deep in his throat, fingers stealing under the lacy material of her underwear to caress the soft skin of the juncture of her hip. "Patience baby," he whispers against her lips, even as she closes her eyes moaning beautifully at the feeling of what his fingers are doing.

"Imma take care of you," he whispers.

Dean makes slow, careful, gentle love to her. Biting her shoulder at the feeling of her silky, velvet heat surrounding him. She takes care of him just as lovingly in her own way. Holding him as he comes down, kissing reassurance and proof of life to his skin. He smiles gently as he wipes the tears that leaked from the corners of her eyes away with his thumbs.

"How'd I get so lucky?" He asks, a little slurred. She smiles into the lazy kiss he's currently branding her mouth with.

"You'd better go to sleep before you say something you regret." She says, smiling. Knowing Dean's next words would be slurred with sleep and satisfaction and might not ring as true as she wanted them to. She lives for the day the words 'I love you' falls from Dean Winchester's lips, but now was not the time.

They fall asleep wrapped up in each other, all hot, tangled skin and limbs. The night and it's scare forgotten in the afterglow of the best sex either of them had ever had. Tomorrow and all their problems will still be there when they wake up. Dean pulls her as close as she can get, hands pressed to smooth, hot skin. She lets herself be held and treasured like she hadn't been since her family died. She buries her face in his neck, safe and hidden from the world.

...

Present Day.

Sam jumps forward mostly on instinct and drives a powerful kick into the Styne's ribs. There's a sickening crack they all hear, and the tall, blonde man roars in pain and outrage. The intended boot to Dean's neck goes off target and he grabs it twisting it grotesquely to the side until there's a pop and their enemy screams again. Dean uses his foot to pull him off balance and he goes plunging to the floor.

In between wheezed-out curses blood bubbles out from the Styne's mouth and down his chin.

"You bastard!" He yells at Sam, "You punctured a lung!" Dean is heaving himself off the ground and Sam is swiftly pulling his gun from the back of his pants to train it on the man on the floor.

Dean grabs Iris by both arms and heaves her from the floor where the jerks to her long hair had left her. She's shaking from adrenaline and fear but otherwise fine. She gives him a trembling smile. "You okay, baby?" He asks, softly. She nods and he pulls her firmly against his side.

It takes everyone by surprise. The Styne jumps to his feet and makes for the door. Sam lets loose three bullets all of which miss and embed themselves in Iris's walls thanks to the way the large man if weaving and almost falls. Sam drops the gun and sprints after him, grabbing his arm just as he rounds the corner into the foyer. They fall to the floor in the small space amongst the ruins of Iris's front door.

It's a quick, brutal fight. Before Dean can even get there Sam lands a knee in the Styne's already busted ribs, driving the punctures further into his lungs. Dean sees the Styne's fingers scrambling to find anything to defend himself against the long line of muscle that made up his little brother. The man's bloody fingers close around a giant splinter from the door he'd busted in and drives the long, pointed shard into Sam's thigh. Sam lets out a grunt and falls back, head hitting sharply against the door jam. The Styne shakily getting to his feet and making his get away in a stumbling run.

Dean is by his brother's side in an instant, eyes wide at the piece of wood buried in Sam's leg, blood bubbling up around it and dripping onto Iris's floor. His hands hover for a moment, then his eyes meet Sam's. He can see the pain and fear there, but also the trust.

"Dean," he gasps out, like a prayer and a solution all at once.

"Okay, okay, Sammy," he gushes, hands pressed around the piece of wood somehow hoping to keep the blood from flowing out.

Iris appears beside him on her knees with some towels. He takes them and insulates them around the wound the best he can. "We gotta get out of here," he tells her. "Open the impala's back door." He fishes the keys out of his pocket and hands them to her. He wraps an arm around Sam's shoulders, his brother's hands fisted in his shirt.

"Okay, up we get," he gasps out, toting Sam up with.

Sam gasps, as he puts weight on his leg, blood dripping from his hair from a head wound. He's limp and a dead weight in Dean's arms in the blink of an eye. Dean grunts under the extra weight, but manages to slip his arm under his little brother's knees. He lifts up breathing heavy, "Hey little brother, you with me?"

Sam grunts, and Dean feels him tense even more.

"Alright, alright, I gotcha," he whispers, walking quickly to the impala, leaning Sam's weight against the car for a moment before somehow pushing him into the backseat. Iris slips in and Dean lays Sam's head in her lap.

Dean closes the door and jumps into the driver's seat cranking Baby up. Sam stirs as the car rumbles to life and opens his eyes to mere slits.

"Oh god," he groans, "My head." Iris threads fingers into his shaggy locks to find the source of the bleeding.

"Is it bad?" Dean asks, looking in the rearview mirror.

"No, just shallow. Leg's still bleeding pretty good though." She supplies, using her hand to pressurize as much as she can around the wound.

Dean purses his lips in the front seat. "Stay with me Sammy," and Iris catches the desperate tone his voice, knows Dean is busy blaming himself for his little brother's hurt. "I'm gonna get you home and take care of that leg, okay?"

Sam smiles even as he grits his teeth, "I know, I'm not going anywhere, at least I'm trying."

"Trying?" Dean asks, sounding mock angry, drawing Sam out for conversation to keep him awake.

"You try staying awake with a hit to the head and your life's blood flowing away." He retorts, words slurring together even as he speaks.

Dean looks back into the rearview mirror anxiously. "I'm trying my best too," Iris supplies, leaning forward and trying to at least slow the bleeding.

"Yeah Dean," Sam says, "We're trying our best. Very hard driving up there?"

"Yeah Dean," Iris joins in, "Why don't you come back here and do some of the heavy work? I know the way to the bunker."

He shoots her a stabbing glare in the mirror making her laugh, but she frowns finding Sam making a confused expression looking up at her.

"I knew I saw a girl in Dean's bed. It was you."

"Yeah," she says, smiling, "I pretended to be asleep."

"Told you she was there, Dean," he grumbles, eyes drifting closer to shut.

"Yeah, you called it little brother." Dean says smiling.

"I still want to hear why you didn't tell me before you invited her in," he grumbles on, "But this time please without all the...details."

"And you owe me one," he adds, hazily.

Dean laughs and nods, "Deal."

He goes lax against Iris, his head lolling to one side, whereas he had been holding it so he could see the back of his big brother's head while he was driving.

"Sam?" she calls, patting his plaid-clad chest gently.

Dean's eyes jump up to the mirror, "Sammy?" He calls.

"Sam!" He demands.

Dean and Iris's eyes meet, she sees hope and fear and so much, raw, deep love reflected there. She feels so powerless and useless when all she can do is helplessly shake her head.

tbc...

PLEASE REVIEW! ;)

thank you

YAY! For Wednesday! Feels like forever since we got an episode! ;) WHO'S EXCITED!?


	11. Chapter 10

Chapter 10.

Present.

Sam is aware of little except pain like he can't believe. It's like someone is branding him in the thigh, holding the hot iron into his skin until it burns away to the bone. He wants to go back to the blissfully ignorant blackness of unconsciousness but his body is hurdling him upwards towards the light.

He becomes aware of movement around him, familiar hands on him, soft, warm light hits his eyelids, burning his eyeballs even though they're covered. He turns away from it, earning him a low laugh that rumbles in his ears. He should know that voice, he does know that voice. Dean.

He feels his lashes flutter against his cheeks and then he opens his eyes, squinting even in the low lamp light. The room slowly comes into focus as does Dean, who is tying off a white bandage on his leg. He brother runs a gentle hand over the neat bandage and then grabs a bottle off the bedside table pouring out couple of pills the rattling echoing in Sam's ears and he frowns turning his head away.

"Hey Sammy," Dean soothes, fingers pushing hair away from his face. "How you feeling?"

"My leg is on fire."

"Hm," Dean muses, disappearing into the bathroom and coming back with a cup of water. "Here, I got you some Vicodin."

He slips an arm under Sam's shoulders and helps him sit up. "Stay as still as you can okay? He barely missed your artery and it was a bitch to stitch up."

He gives Sam the pills and he pops them into his mouth, Dean holds the cup for him and Sam washes down the pills with a gulp. He lays back on his pillows with a gasping sigh, the muscles tensing and relaxing in his leg.

"You lost quite a bit of blood," Dean tells him, clearing up the wrappings from the bandages and the bloody towels. "So, you should sleep awhile, until we can scare something up for you to eat."

Sam looks around blearily, realizing for the first time that Iris is missing. "Where's Iris?" He asks, settling deeper, a comfortable haze wrapping his entire body.

"Probably puking after she opened the fridge." Dean says drily. Sam barely catches the words as the drugs take affect and he falls into blissful darkness again.

"And you are out," Dean says, smiling fondly, pulling the blankets up over his brother and then taking his leave to search for Iris himself. They did have a little something to make up for...their last time together in the bunker having been so rudely interrupted. Sam was safely asleep AND drugged, he wouldn't be making an appearance for a while.

...

Dean comes into the kitchen after throwing his armful of bloody towels into the washing machine, and puts the Vicodin away in the cabinet. Iris is leaning against the counter, but as Dean starts to make some coffee she stops him.

"Already done," she says smiling, handing him a cup and pouring them both some.

"I guess we need to talk about where to go from here," she says after a beat of silence.

Dean nods, "But not without Sammy." At her face he holds up his hands, "Baby, we tried our hands at the research and we got no where...besides Sam knows piles about the Book of the Damned that neither me or you could dig up. He touched and studied the thing, waiting for him is the right call."

Iris concedes and sits with a sigh, "How come Sam worked that case alone?" She asked, not meaning to pry, not knowing there was so much more deep darkness to the story than she wanted to know.

Dean sits in front of her with an even wearier sigh than hers and stares moodily into the dark depths of his coffee cup. Iris watches him carefully, her trepidation rising with his ongoing silence. Dean rubs a hand over his brow, trying to use his fingers to ease the ache that was suddenly there.

"It wasn't really a case, I had this thing on my arm," his hand ghosts its own way over to rest over the skin the mark once marred. "It was a curse, a pretty bad one, the Mark of Cain..."

"As in Cain Cain, the bible guy?" Dean nods, laughing at her expression.

"I know, I didn't really believe it at first either. But as the father of murder he kind of had this power..."

"That he could pass on?" Iris finishes for him. "I've never heard of anything like that."

Dean just sighs, "Well, it's true." He settles more comfortably in his chair, drinks in some of the dark brew. "Have you ever heard of the Knights of Hell?"

Iris nods drinking from her own cup, "Super demons, so to speak."

Dean nods, "We had one on our hands," he holds up his hands as her mouth flies open. "The very last one, before you tell me there were no more, smarty pants."

She smirks over the table at him.

"Anyways, we needed to get rid of this badass demon, and quick, it was rumored that the Mark of Cain and the blade that pairs with it could kill a Knight of Hell...so,"

Iris' face was a mess of different emotions but mostly unbelief. "So you got the freaking mark," she supplies drily.

Dean nods, "Abaddon bit it after Crowley acquired the First Blade for me, but when the blade and the mark paired..."

Iris watches the dark shadows wash over his face, his fingers dig into his own arm. "There was a chain reaction. The mark was alive, it buried it's self, not only my arm, but in my mind, in my soul. It was like being the angriest you've ever been in your life a million fold, no break, no control...it changed me, began to take over.

"That's the way the curse was designed, I welcomed it to my body, but all the curse really wanted was a vessel."

He swallows and looks down, ashamed. "Long story short, I died...and the m..."

Iris squeezes her eyes shut, and shakes her head holding up her hand, "Woah, woah, woah...long story short you died?"

Dean nods, "Yeah, and as I was saying, the mark brou..."

"You're telling me all those rumors about you and Sam dying and coming back are true?" Her mind is whirling, she had discredited about a third of the amazing tales surrounding the Winchester name, but now...

"I don't know the rumors," Dean says hesitantly, "But me and Sam have both died and come back a handful of times, yes. Is that a problem?"

She shakes her head, "Just a lot to wrap my head around."

He inclines his head, true. "The mark brought me back, but not as human me...as a Knight of Hell me."

"You were a demon?" Iris asks, and if Dean didn't know better he'd say she was fascinated.

"Yeah, the mark actually brought my soul back as a demon. By using my original body, it just made me that much stronger...Sam tracked me down and cured me."

"Woah, woah, woah...you guys can cure demons?" She's leaning towards him now in disbelief.

He nods, smiling a touch smugly, "Not the point though, Sam purified my blood, and in so doing my soul...brought me back. But the mark was still there, and we searched high and low, there was no cure."

He sighs, downing the last of his coffee, thinking back to that very difficult time in their lives, "The Book of the Damned was our last chance...but the Stynes' came 'a calling. They could track the book somehow, the thing was evil, Iris, it would talk to me, call to the mark on my arm...I told Sam to destroy it."

He smirks, looking towards the door, back towards Sam's room.

"The kid tricked me and kept the book, and he found the cure too...so that's why he knows so much more about, let's face it though, he knows a lot more about most things than me." He laughs, face clearing when he gets to the end of the story.

"Wait," Iris whines, "That can't be the end of the story?"

Dean laughs, but she can tell he's not going into it any deeper so she doesn't push it. He rises, slipping over to her side of the table, sitting beside her, sidling up to her.

"Sam is the man for this job, so we'll just give him some time to recuperate, like maybe a couple of hours," he tucks his nose behind her ear and smiles as she giggles.

"Dean, you're hurt," she objects, even as she turns towards him and his lips slip hot and dry over hers, fingers slipping under her tank top to feel that silky skin, making her shudder.

"I know what you could do to make it better?" He mummers, before slipping both arms around her and knocking her backwards so she falls until he catches her. She jumps but sighs as she looks up into his eyes, smiling as he leans down to kiss her in earnest.

They could probably give Sam a few hours, and heal Dean a little.

...

Sam wakes, blinking at his ceiling in the silence of the bunker. He rolls over to gain his feet, forgetting all about his newly acquired wound. Even though the Vicodin is still in his bloodstream the agony ripping through his nerves and muscles quickly reminds him. Fingers fist in the sheets and he grinds his teeth together to keep a yell in.

Legs hanging off the bed, he leans back on his elbows waiting for the clouds to leave his vision and the tendrils of pain to fade back to bearable. He spots the cup of water from early on his bedside table and drinks what's left. He looks around his room finding all in order, but no Dean and no Iris.

The lightheadedness and rumble in his stomach reminds him of Dean's earlier promise of food and he slowly rights himself and then gains his feet. He's feeling pretty good, fingers skit over the bandage wrapped around his thigh, it could have been a lot worse, Sam knows. He fights his way into a pair of sweat pants and limps to his door and through it, Dean having left it opened so he could hear if his little brother needed anything.

Almost by instinct he wanders into Dean's room finding it empty and the bathroom door standing open, the air still damp from a hot shower. He smirks at both his brother's and Iris's shoes left discarded on the floor, towels thrown carelessly into corners. Seems he slept through the action, thank God.

He makes his way slowly down the hall to the library which he finds empty too. But he can smell something divine coming from the kitchen and can hear voices and a feminine laugh, followed by Dean's familiar rumbling laughter. Going down the few stairs to the kitchen was pretty agonizing but as soon as Dean spots him Sam has a pair of strong hands and arms helping him to a seat at the table. Iris sits perched on top of the island in the middle of the kitchen, looking like she's buttering up bagels.

She watches the boys work together as she finishes and then hops down, grabbing a cup and pouring Sam some coffee. Dean smiles at her as he takes the cup from her and places it in front of his brother. Sam flashes them both a tired smile.

"How're you feeling?" Iris asks, taking a step back and shoving her hands into her back pockets.

Dean stands by waiting for the response as well, a hand on Sam's shoulder, eyes looking him over carefully.

Sam nods swallowing before utilizing his voice, "I'm fine guys, obviously I've been better but I feel pretty good."

Dean searches his eyes for a moment and then nods.

"I am really hungry though," Sam offers, smirking at the way his brother's countenance lifts at that.

Dean goes back to the stove flipping something and grinning, "It's almost ready, we decided on brunch since we missed breakfast this morning."

Sam looks at his watch to find he slept for only about three hours, he's surprised that Dean and Iris hasn't eaten yet though. Dean serves whatever is in the skillet he was using into three plates on the island and then Iris grabs two plates and Dean the other. They set the plates down on the table and Dean gets three glasses and a pitcher orange juice from the fridge.

The plate set in front of Sam is a vision of culinary beauty. There's a bagel cut in half, each piece smeared with butter and mayonnaise. Sautéed onions and tomatoes sit under a layer of perfectly cooked bacon on top of which a fried egg crowns the breakfast sandwich. Sam blinks at it stupidly for a moment in shock.

He looks up to find the pair of them regarding him hesitantly as if waiting for his approval.

"Guys..." He looks down at the sandwich and then back at them. "Y'all made this?"

Dean looks indignant, but Iris's face softens into a smile.

"We made it together, and we made it for you," she says easily, taking her seat and Dean follows suit, though not looking as complacent as Iris. He purses his lips and sends Sam a semi sincere glare.

Sam rolls his eyes at his sibling and sends Iris a sweet smile. Placing one half of the bagel on top of the other and then picking it up and biting into it. Dean has lost all nervousness or reservations with food in reach and digs in just as enthusiastically. Iris smiles and picks up her own sandwich to eat it.

The meal passes in happy silence with Dean smacking and generally being himself and Iris handing him napkins with a smirk in her pretty face. When the food has disappeared Dean grabs the coffee carafe and pours them all some more coffee. Iris takes a deep breath.

"I gotta say first," she says letting the breath out, "I am really sorry for getting you guys caught up in this, I'm sorry that you got hurt Dean, and really, really sorry about your leg Sam."

Dean gives an insincere skeptical grunt at that, and she sends him a peeved look that disappears as his smile goes sugary sweet and his hand finds hers, giving it a squeeze.

"I was really foolish to even look for such an old book I didn't even know anything about for an anonymous client." She bites her lip and Dean gives her hand another reassuring squeeze.

"But I really need your help."

She's talking mostly to Sam, and looks him straight in the eye. She knows she put him and more importantly his brother in danger, knows Sam had been terrified the night before when he thought something terrible had happened to Dean. Knows she had brought one of the Winchester's worst enemies back to their doorstep.

She sees all those emotions flash over Sam's face. Anger briefly, fear, memories ghosting through his mind that still haunt him to this day. Sam Winchester wants to keep his brother away from those fiends, it was the one thing he'd sworn. The one thing he'd promised himself that he really wanted to keep in the past, really keep anything pertaining to the mark away from his brother.

Iris is afraid for a moment Sam will disagree, will pull his brother away from her, back behind the lines. Lock him away in the safe walls of the bunker until the Stynes go away and then take him away from Lebanon and her and her trouble. She watches Dean take in Sam's reaction and emotions. She knows nothing will pull these two apart, knows where Sam goes Dean follows and visa versa...she realizes this is a big moment in all three of their lives.

If Sam draws away now Dean will follow and Iris will be alone again, and she can't be that person again. Dean has changed her, Dean has made her over again, has remade her his. She needs him like the air she breathes, she needs him like she needs gravity to stay upright and grounded.

Her fingers tighten around his hand as Sam looks at her, she feels her heart beating so fast, so loud. Dean and Sam's eyes meet over the table, Sam's falling to where their hands are joined. It seems as if the air is sucked from the room, as they wait...wait for this moment...this one fateful moment of truth...this one second that will change all their lives forever.

Sam looks back to his brother, their eyes meeting, gazes hardening.

The youngest Winchester looks down to Iris and then back to his brother.

"We've got work to do."

tbc...

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Hey guys! I know it's been a while, but here's another chapter, hopefully I'll be finishing this story up soon. :)


	12. Chapter 11

Chapter 11.

Present.

Sam sits in the library studying the pictures from Dean's cell phone of the troublesome book, that he has since uploaded to his laptop. While it is definitely text from the book of the damned Sam finds it isn't complete and not the most important parts, the location spell for the original enchanted book is there though.

The Winchester's still don't know where the book of the damned is located. And leave Rowena well enough alone, as she seems disinclined to cause trouble in the newly peaceful universe. Sam is sure more harm will come from the book in the hands of the Stynes than Rowena so they don't want the Stynes tracking it and their fairest, witchiest ally.

Sam thinks it would probably be in their best interest to locate Rowena and the book of the damned, but now more important duties call. He can hear his brother's voice rumbling down the hall from the kitchen highlighted every few moments with Iris' more feminine voice. Heavens knows what they talked about as they cleaned up the kitchen after breakfast but Sam's starting to think they're lagging on purpose.

He sighs, trying not to dwell on the mess Iris Aarons has brought to their door step, so he finds his mind wandering to his brother. He finds himself smiling thinking of Dean falling for the refined woman this Iris obviously is. Her smile is quiet, a little playful when she turns it on Dean, other times her eyes go soft and glistening and he can see the love and worship she has for Dean Winchester.

He catches Dean at it too. When she talks he tends to look a little transfixed with her voice and the way her mouth moves and the way her face lights up and falls. When they're up and about they tend to hover somewhere just too close to each other. Dean with a hand ghosting over Iris' back, Iris letting her hip bump his as she helps clean off the table. They share warmth and space, their sides lined to each other as Dean washes their plates and Iris rinses.

Frankly, they're just too intimate out in the open for Sam so he departs to the library. He supposed they'll learn or he'll become less of a prude. (Dean was right, okay? He admits it.) Sam fled the scene, but he still wants help!

He's pulling out his notes he saved from what he knew about the book of the damned as Dean and Iris make their appearance.

Sam just rolls his eyes as Dean drops his arm from around her shoulders to a less intimate stance, letting his hand rest on her waist. Dean sets up his own laptop after Iris leaves his side to retrieve all the paper work holding everything she knew about the book too. She leaves the file in Sam's hands and then grabs his notes sitting with them beside Dean.

"You got security cameras?" He asks, leaning towards her.

She sends him an incredulous look. "Of course I do."

He just laughs at her short reply, and within seconds has pulled up the feed of the security cameras of the bookshop. He's looking smug as she looks surprised, leaning into his space to look at the video.

"Okay that's a little creepy, how did you do that so fast?"

He just chuckles and pulls his laptop closer to himself, settling in for the long haul. He grabs his coffee cup and takes a long drink, having his work cut out for him. Iris uses Sam's file to slap his knee which only makes him laugh more. She huffs a sigh and turns away him, deliberately turning her back. Sam watches the whole exchange with a smile sneaking it's way to his face, but quickly neutralizes it as she turns her somewhat intimidating gaze on him.

He clears his throat and takes the seat across from her.

"Don't worry Sammy," Dean says flatly, not even looking up from the computer in his lap, "She's all show, but if you piss her off the silent treatment and death glares are not fun."

She slaps him with the file again and turns a sincere smile on Sam, not having been purposefully scary. Sam smirks and flips through Iris' research immediately impressed. "This is pretty good," he says, glancing up at her, before going back to taking in all the amassed information.

Dean snorts into his coffee cup before drinking again and pretending he was paying them no mind as he watched Iris' book shop where the book was still in the safe. Iris and Sam both look over at the elder Winchester, mouths pressed into thin lines before looking back to the paper before them.

"I work in a bookstore," she offers flatly, "I know what I'm doing."

Sam looks a little taken aback, but inclines his head as if to say, "touché."

Dean's sniggering again and both Sam and Iris send him weltering glares so he hunkers down in his seat and shuts up in earnest. Sam and Iris look at each other, smug as they turn back to their paperwork.

The eldest of their trio let's them believe they have won victory over him. Dean continues to silently laugh at them, smiles playing sneakily just on the corners of his lips. They don't know it yet but the two of them were already as thick as thieves. Bent over the dusty, men of letters books, one hand on the page, one wrapped around a cooling cup of coffee, Dean knows they are going to be fast friends.

He winces thinking of himself stuck in the middle, subject to both their mother henning, both of them telling him about healing teas and healthy food. He rolls his eyes, he's going to have to help keep things light around here, or else Iris and Sam would be burning incense and listening to motivational speeches off of YouTube. (Dean's imagination was a little active, but better prepared than not.)

Iris' book shop is most assuredly being watched, the Stynes not even trying to be inconspicuous. The arrogant dicks, Dean thinks, peeved. He's pretty sure he had finished at least one of them the other night, which left them with four. Doable, Dean figures.

It's time to end the line of Frankenstein.

...

It's three hours later when Sam looks up and announces:

"Okay, I've found a way to destroy the book. Holy oil, an extract of angel grace, a few odds and ends."

"Destroy it?" Iris asks, a little skeptically.

"Yeah," Sam nods, "The Stynes won't stop until they find it, if we could we would have long since destroyed the book of the damned but there's strong, old, dark magic protecting it." Sam is already heading down to the store room to gather the ingredients they have on hand, the other two follow him.

"This copy of the book complicates things and threatens everyone's safety, and we need to keep the Stynes from getting their hands on it at any costs. Easiest, surest way; destroy it."

Iris sends him a peeved glare as he quickly starts pulling boxes and bottles from the shelves and placing them into a cardboard box like he's doing some strange grocery shopping.

"But all that information..." She falters, frowning even as Dean tugs her against him, and hugs her from behind.

"All that information NO ONE needs," he says firmly, slightly dark. Sam and his gazes meeting for a tense moment. "Sam's right, the book must be destroyed Iris, even the knowledge used for good in the book of the damned results in evil."

Iris remembers back to Dean's story and what had happened to the Winchester brothers. She understands where they're coming from, and she had asked for their help after all, they were trying to save her bacon.

"So what do we do now?" She asks, realizing the brothers are right in their plan to obliterate the book and it's dark secrets.

"We retrieve the book," Sam says, heading back to the library, Dean and Iris still on his heels.

"And then we lay the trap," Dean says, the smile on his lips and the look in his eyes chilling both Iris and Sam.

"What are you talking about?" Sam asks, slowing his quick movements, watching his brother carefully.

"The Stynes," Dean says simply, "We have to finish the job, completely annihilate them, we have to end their line Sam."

Sam shivers remembering the Dean who had previously slaughtered over fifteen grown men at the Styne plantation in Louisiana, he remembers the three bodies he'd removed from the bunker ...their home. The youngest, just a boy, probably not even graduated from high school, a cold, deliberate, perfect circle in the middle of his forehead where Dean hadn't thought twice about ending him.

They'd never talked about it, Sam had never spoken about how burying the corpses of his brother's victims left behind in their home like garbage had been a thousand times worse than burying a million of his own kills. Now faced with the Stynes again, and cold cunning shining in Dean's eyes Sam is again afraid and feeling sick.

"Dean," he says lowly, "You had your revenge, Charlie is gone. Let's get the book and destroy it, easy and simple."

Dean chuckles dryly, "You think this is about Charlie?"

"Isn't it?" Sam challenges.

"Sam," Dean says softly, noticing the tightness of his brother's shoulders, the quickness of his breaths. "That is over, that is forgotten. It's not between us anymore. But the Stynes are monsters, they will crawl under a rock and they will breed and make more of themselves just like insects until there's so many we'll have another apocalypse on our hands, we've gotta finish them while we have the chance.

"That's why they're here, they're trying to save their line, find the book or its copy and regain some of their power, make more Stynes, build up their dynasty once again."

Dean looks Sam dead in the eye, coldness still glinting there.

"This isn't personal anymore, this is straight and cold cut hunting. They're monsters and they need to be put down."

Sam swallows thickly, looking away from his brother and nods. "Okay, yeah, you're right."

Dean pats him on the shoulder, smiling, but not smugly or cruelly. Iris looks away to give them some privacy as he steps closer to him, hand still resting reassuringly on his shoulder.

"It's not my favorite gig either Sam, but it's got to be done, it sucks, but then it always does."

Sam nods and sends Dean a quick, stretched smile. Dean pats him again on the shoulder smiling fondly at his little brother.

"Okay," he claps his hands together, "Here's the plan, Iris, you got one job and one job only, get the book out of the safe. Me and Sam will have your back. Sam," he glances back towards his little brother, "There's a back door and a coupla windows you watch those, I'll take the front. Iris baby, your gonna have to work fast. We don't wanna get caught with the book, or we'll be goners." The younger two nod at him and Iris swallows thickly.

She's really about to go into battle with the Winchester brothers.

As exhilarating as it is...she's terrified too.

...

She finds Dean in his room sliding a loaded clip into his colt and tucking it into the back of his jeans. She stands in the door for a moment watching him, the sharp lines in his face as he shoves the clip into the gun with a satisfying click, the way his jaw clenches as he tests it weight in his hand before hiding it under his shirt tail.

Watching all that hardness and bitter warrior fade away from him when he spots her.

What is this man doing to her?

What is she doing to him?

She feels a smile turning up her lips as she enters the room, thinks vaguely it should be scaring her stepping into the embrace of a man who had just concealed a firearm in his waistband. But it doesn't, in fact she's pretty sure she feels safer if not a tad bit turned on.

"Hey," he says softly, "You ready for this?"

She shudders with the feeling of his warm breath on her face and shakes her head, wishing they could stay here forever. Her in his strong, safe arms, his smile soft and warm, no cunning coldness in his eyes. Just utter happiness that she gives him, just a steady calmness that Dean is for her. He chuckles deep in his chest and she smiles as it rumbles, she can feel it vibrate between them.

He slips his smiling lips from their place where they're pressed to her hair down behind her ear, and then in soft, tender kisses down the column of her throat. She shivers, arms coming up around his neck, angling her face up for the kiss she knows is coming. His arms slip around her back all the way, pulling her closer, molding them together.

He slips a hand up her back to cup her head and to tangle fingers in brunette locks. Hand controlling her head, their lips meet and Iris sighs into his warm wetness, letting him dominate the kiss. His tongue coating her mouth hotter and wetter somehow as he maps it out, seemingly having already forgotten her never changing anomaly. She always makes his knees weak, she's always the same, she never ceases to make him react different, stronger.

"Hmm," he sighs, as he comes up for air, dilated eyes looking down on her, fingers running down through her hair, then back to the top to start again. "How's it feel to be hunting with Winchesters?" He asks, eyebrow raised smugly.

She snorts a laugh, and her finger tips drift absently down the sharp cheekbone, caress over the crows feet by his eyes she loves so much. "Scary as hell." Is all she supplies.

Dean pouts, "Aw c'mon, we'll keep you safe."

She giggles as he buries his nose in her neck and lays tickling kitten licks on the sensitive skin.

"Okay okay," she concedes, bringing his face up, flushed, in between her hands. "A little exciting, maybe."

He laughs triumphantly lifting her up so she leans down into this kiss with both of their smiles fading fast, smeared into the other's. She licks at his full bottom lip and he opens letting her in, sharing the warmth he had shown her just seconds before. They both taste like coffee and remnants of orange juice from breakfast, and Dean realizes how used he's gotten to all this.

It's normal for him to taste breakfast on Iris' tongue and it scares him. There's so much for him to lose, from coffee he made leaving after tastes for him to find in her mouth, to finding forgotten socks and earrings scattered over his bedroom floor. The smell of her on his sheets, some fancy smancy conditioner in his shower.

The way she blushes and stretches under him in the morning when she wakes to him smiling down at her, the heated look she gives him after a couple of drinks and the a.m. is making her tired enough to be wild...these are all the things he could lose now. And now he's more afraid than ever.

He hugs her close, whispers right against her ear so she only catches bits and pieces, "Gotta be careful, baby girl, kill me if I lose you."

A soft smile turns her lips up and she presses them warm and soft to his face, feeling the roughness of his stubble. "Of course," she promises, "You too, Dean." She sighs a shuddering breath, pulling back to look into his eyes. "Don't know how you did this, how did you become my whole world?"

He smiles and kisses her slowly, sugary sweet and hot as sin. She moans into his mouth and he eats it right up, "We're gonna get through this baby." He promises, "And things are gonna go back to how they were.

"Gonna wake up next to you, not gonna leave bed until I've made love to you a coupla times," she smiles and shivers at the pictures he paints for her between reassuring kisses.

"Sounds like a plan," she mumbles against his spit slick lips, and he looks appreciatively at her pink, swollen ones.

"Let's get this over with then," he whispers, releasing her and grabbing the weapons bag from the bed, leading her out towards the library and the up and coming fight by the hand. They'd be back soon, and they had the rest of the future before them.

tbc...

PLEASE REVIEW! (Reviews help me keep going, if you read this fic and you like it and want to read more plz review me it really influences my writing!)

thank you


	13. Chapter 12

Chapter 12.

Present.

Sam can hear his brother's voice rumbling from his room and knows he and Iris are prepping each other for the coming fray. Sam smirks, looking over the supplies he's spread over the table in preparation for destroying the book. True, he dislikes the idea of waiting, but he knows that Dean is right.

They must end the Stynes while they can. And Dean must face them and Sam must face them. They have to look those monsters in the face again, hear their taunts, feel the strength of their evil. But they had a chance to end all that, so that other people wouldn't have to suffer their taunts, wouldn't be tainted by their darkness. It was the sacrifice they made, it was the sacrifice they were committed to keep on making.

Dean and Iris make their appearance and Dean grabs the impala's keys off the table where he left them. "You ready?" He asks Sam, and Sam nods having already grabbed his own colt and checked it's clip, and having an extra one in his coat pocket.

"Alright," Dean says sounding chipper, but reasonably sober at the same time. "Let's get this show on the road." Sam and Iris follow him down to the garage, the youngest Winchester watching his brother's lover carefully.

He's impressed with her calmness, the way she's a graceful shadow of Dean's confident force walking just in front of them. He finds it adorable the way she keeps close to Dean, and even more so how Dean sends her fond glances, obviously not minding. She doesn't distrust Sam, but her trust of Dean so exceeds it that Sam feels a little offended by the way she avoids him in his big brother's presence.

Dean tosses the weapon bag into the trunk of the car and then opens the door, sliding in. Sam, ever the gentleman, pauses a second, but finds Iris already climbing into the back seat. He chuckles a little under his breath, thinking maybe she does stand a chance. Dean shoots him a mischievous glance, and Sam can tell Dean's laughing at him.

He just rolls his eyes and shuts the door...at the same time Iris shuts hers behind him. Dean just laughs more under his breath, pulls out of the bunker's garage and turns on the radio. Eric Clapton's Hungry Eyes croons rough the speakers and Dean and Iris' eyes immediately meet in the rearview mirror.

"Oh god," Sam groans, settling into his seat, "Kill me now."

Iris blushes, but Dean just laughs, back handing his chest, "Oh shut up, I've had to watch all your miserably, crappy, CHEESY and SHORT LIVED love affairs."

Sam looks affronted, "Wow, so sensitive, thanks for summing that up for me."

Dean sends him that cocky, crooked grin, "You're welcome."

Iris is sniggering to herself in the backseat, calmly looking out her window. Dean smiles, glancing up to the rear view mirror. And Sam thinks they probably do make quite a sight squabbling like kids in the front seat of badass Baby. He finds himself smiling too.

Sam watches Dean effortless drive them towards Lebanon and Iris' bookshop. He feels a flash of annoyance wondering how many times Dean had taken this route by himself. Why couldn't have Dean just told him?

He gets it, he really does. Sam knows what it's like to feel as if talking about something will spoil it. Afraid to jinx something good. And if a Winchester gets something good then they better be prepared to hold on to it tight. So Sam gets it...but still it stings a little since the brothers are so close.

When they pull up in front of the bookshop Sam gapes a little at the front and the warding he's already spotting popping up in different places. Iris not only owns her own business she also seems to be a pretty badass spell caster. He kicks Dean in the shin when he sees the coffee shop across the street.

He can't even begin to count all the times Dean had forced him into the coffee shop and made him sit and wait as he reclined by the front window and sipped on coffee slowly. Before this Sam had gone along because Dean seldom looked so relaxed. Now Sam knows he was probably just coming to watch Iris and her store. From now on Dean can sit and perv on his girlfriend by himself.

There's a sleek black car idling just down the street, doors opening and revealing tall men in black suits with white button up shirts open at the neck. They're not shy either, hand pieces come out of their jackets as they walk towards them, expression hard and determined and proud. Confident of success.

"Go, go, go," Dean urges both Iris and Sam. Sam hurries as much as his leg allows and Iris unlocks the door quickly, her cool unperturbed by the situation. They slip through the door just as the first shot embeds its self into the wood of the door frame close to Dean's head.

"Shit!" He curses, slamming the door behind them. Iris has already disappeared into the back office Sam limps to stand against the wall peering through the blinded windows. Silence reigns. Then simultaneously the windows shatter as gunfire deafens them.

The brothers hit the floor and Iris crawls from the office with a heavy book bag in tow.

"Is that it?" Dean shouts over the fray. She nods and he gets to his knees.

"Sam." He mumbles meaningfully and his bother crawls towards them. As the taller Winchester joins them Dean leans his head closer to them. "In a moment they'll be out of bullets." He mutters, Iris barely catching the hurried words. "I'll distract them, you two get out of here. Out the back door, there's an abandoned lot behind the garden fence. All sides are blocked. It's your best bet. Get out there and destroy the book...hurry."

"What?" Sam questions, "This isn't a plan at all Dean." He argues.

Iris's face is white as she studies Dean's all the time, "You selfless bastard," she breathes out, "This was your plan all along."

He cocks his eyebrow at her but then turns serious and looks to Sam, knowing he will back his play before Iris and force her to retreat also. Sam just makes a noise of frustration and regret and then nods. They wait for the silence that signals their open window.

"Dean..." Iris croaks out.

But then Sam is pulling her up and away and out the back door. "No..." she gasps out as the sun blinds her eyes and she barely catches a glimpse of Dean leaping to his feet and cockily opening the front door.

"No..." she claws at Sam's hand where he's latched onto her.

"Iris, focus," he snaps and she just now catches onto what they're doing. Sam holds the bag containing the things they need to destroy the book. He drops it on the grass and then offers her his hands looped together to step into.

"I'll help you over," he says. She takes a deep breath and places a slender foot into his palms. He grunts as he lifts her upwards, she places her arms on the ledge of the wall and pulls herself the rest of the way up, she waits at the top as he passes her the bag and she slips over and into the abandoned lot surrounded by old, moldy brick walls.

She hears Sam grunt and watches as the huge man scrambles, amazingly lithe, over the wall and drops down beside her a cold smile on his face. She recognizes Dean in that; the thrill and adrenaline rush of the hunt...she'd seen it in Dean. Fear brought the Winchesters to life, they basked in the unfair odds and laughed over a few cold ones when they screwed destiny over.

The pair stands breathing heavily in silence for few moments. Iris jumps and lets out a small gasp as gun reports sound into the chilly air. Sam's face goes grim and then he's jerking chalk out of his coat pockets and hastily sketching out a circle with some symbols inside it. Iris stands distracted for a moment her mind..her heart, her very soul over the wall and with the hunter Dean Winchester.

"Iris." Sam's steady voice calls her back to reality, she jerks around, wide eyes meeting his. "The book." He reminds and she lets the back pack containing the book fall from her shoulders. She unzips the main compartment and takes out the old missive. Sam takes it from her and opens it to the middle before setting it in the center of the circle.

He takes two stakes from the weapons bag and places them on the ground in front of them. If Iris had to guess, she'd say from the looks of them they're grape vine, the wood is ugly and gnarled. She watches as Sam pours holy oil over them mumbling a Latin blessing by memory.

He sprinkles some kind of coarse herb over the book and then opens his flask flicking holy water over his work. Iris watches his flurried but confident movements in amaze, she's starting to believe everything she's heard about the Winchester brother hunters. Sam takes out a darkly bound journal and opens it, he begins to speak the spell written within as he takes a glass vial from the inside pocket of his coat.

He opens the lid and the bluish flame of light leaps into the air but stays in front of Sam, the spell binding it to this location.

"What's tha..." Iris begins to question.

"The grace of an angel." A strange voice drawls the answer before she's finished or Sam can get it out. A tall man, clothed in a black suit, hair dirty blond, a Styne prototype, straddles the wall and jumps over. He lands with ease, not a hair moving out of place. Iris swallows as she moves in front of Sam and prepares herself for the fight of a lifetime.

She tries not to think about the all too likely possibility that this Styne had reached them because Dean has failed...because Dean is dead.

Sam is white, but keeps face. Iris hopes she's doing as well as he is as she hears the spell proceeding behind her.

The angel grace bursts into flame before his face highlighting the red tints in his hair, his kaleidoscope eyes equally aflame. Iris watches the Styne carefully waiting for him to make the first move. His first punch she dodges slipping under his arm and delivering a kick to his kidney. He doesn't even grunt, his hand reaching behind him and gripping her hair tight, wrapping it around his fingers.

He throws Iris into the wall and she wheezes in a few breathes before getting back to her feet. She tackles him as he almost enters the spell circle and they crash the ground. Iris gouges her elbow into the Styne's eye, she hears a sickening squelch and feels wetness seep into her sleeve.

The monster screams and throws Iris off him, wrapping his arms around her and sending her crashing to the floor as he gains his feet. The breath is gone from Iris's lungs and the brutal kicks being delivered into her side and legs aren't helping. She grabs onto the ankle of a leg as it crashes into her and the strength drags her forward. She uses the momentum to gain her knees and head butts the Styne's abdomen. He grabs onto her waist and drives her into his knee as he kicks it into her stomach.

Sam's voice has risen above all their noise, the air crackling with energy, wind picking up and dark clouds suddenly sitting low in the sky. With the last shouted word of the spell the burning angel grace plummets down into the center of the book. Sam grabs the stakes and drives them into it with all his might.

The fire catches onto the holy oil and the old book goes up in a huge flame as Sam falls back breathing heavily...success.

"Hey!" He shouts, but the man doesn't stop kicking Iris, he pulls the colt from the back of his pants and shoots into the sky. The man ducks away from the sound knowing the Winchesters are smart enough to remember the truth...Styne's only have one head.

Iris falls to the ground whimpering, and curls up on herself, her face swelling up, blood spilling from in between her lips. She goes limp as consciousness leaves her small frame. Sam sees red.

...

 _Sam is packing the weapons bag in the store room, preparing for the hunt when he hears his brother's footsteps coming down the hall towards him. He glances over his shoulder at Dean with a smile on his face, somewhat relieved Iris hasn't followed him down. They need a few moments alone before this hunt he can tell._

 _"Got everything?" His brother asks, fingering something in the box next to Sam. He won't be the one to tell Dean that it's dried pigs feet._

 _Sam nods, "Yep, god I love the Men of Letters..."_

 _Dean just smirks, "You love their store rooms."_

 _Sam concedes his point and gingerly places the items into the canvas bag. He zips it up and faces his brother, knows when Dean is nervous nearly just by the energy coming off of him. As it is the way his fingers tap against the leg of his jeans gives him away._

 _"You ready for this?" He asks._

 _Dean runs both hands down his face and sighs, "Yeah I guess, I mean I dunno_

 _really Sammy."_

 _"It's going to fine," Sam assures and walks over to lean against the shelving beside Dean._

 _"I know," Dean says looking contemplative. He looks at Sam for a second before his eyes fall downwards again. "It's just..." Sam waits as he struggles with his words._

 _He sighs, "It's just you know, we go on a hunt and I'm worried about you, but I know you can take care of yourself, I mean you're the size of a barge. But Iris she's so...literally she's like half my size, she's so tiny and I just can't help but feel like I'm going to lose her. And it's the stupidest thing I've ever done taking her on this hunt, but there's no way for me to keep her from going and just..."_

 _Sam knows what Dean is feeling. He felt it every time his family came up with Jess, it's one of the reasons he turned his back on Amelia and went back to his old life...it's the blemish and the darkness of their lifestyles cast on the people they love. It's the fear that they will be the dark infection that seeps into their calm normal lives and proves fatal._

 _Iris was a hunter and she was already exposed to all this, but not to them. Not to their curse, not the huge chance that getting close to a Winchester had signed her own death certificate. Sam finds himself grinding his teeth together watching Dean fist and unfist his hands._

 _Dean takes a deep, calming breath, "So however this thing turns out Sammy, I want you stick to her, don't leave her side."_

 _"Dean..." Sam starts, "I don't like how this sou..."_

 _"Sam." Dean stops him. "We both know how this is going to have to work. There's too many of them for us not to separate. The book has to be destroyed and all the Styne's need to be annihilated...now I'll distract and annihilate and you and Iris destroy the book."_

 _"I still don't like it." Sam says just for good measure._

 _Dean smirks, "I know me neither Sammy boy, but this is the way it's gotta be."_

 _Sam nods still looking hesitant._

 _"Sam...promise me." Dean says, coming to stand his full height and placing a hand on his brother's shoulder._

 _Sam sighs but smiles, "I promise Dean. I might be a little sore you kept this from me, but I got your back brother, which means I've got hers."_

 _The smile Dean awards Sam with is blinding. He shoves some papers into Sam's hands and leaves with a heavy handed pat on his little brother's shoulder and saunters out of the store room._

 _"Let's go kill us some Frankensteins!"_

 _Sam shakes his head smiling fondly, though his heart aches with apprehension of what may go down this afternoon. He looks down at the documents Dean had given him to find false ID and insurance for Iris. The tight ball of anxiety in his stomach just clenches tighter._

...

Sam lets a kick fly right into the Styne's jaw. He hears a sickening crack and it fills him with satisfaction, though the cut on his leg is screaming in agony he throws himself at the man and they crash into the wall.

Sam is on his feet before his still surprised opponent. He takes the head of the monster in his large hands and uses the wall as his weapon. He uses all his weight and strength as he shatters the skull across the brick wall, he grunts as he shatters the bloody, caved in scalp one last time into the wall just to be sure.

He throws the body to the ground gasping in breaths and watching for any signs of life as he wipes blood from his hands onto his blue jeans. He turns away from the bloody mess and falls to his knees by Iris's small, battered form.

No, no, no, he thinks frantically. Hands fluttering over her body for a moment, too scared to discover if she's gone or not. She answers for him as with a shuddering breath a moan falls from her lips, but it's still a sign of life.

"Hey Iris," he whispers, a hand soothing over the exposed side of her face, sweeping the brunette curls from bruised skin. "You with me?" Please be with me, please don't let me fail him...

He gets a fluttering of dark lashes on white cheeks in answer and soon cloudy eyes are resting on his face and then fluttering anxiously around. Sam knows she's only partly conscious, most likely this was just her subconscious awake and answering him, probably wants to know...

"Dean?" She whispers out in a voice that grates in her throat.

"I..." Sam starts but then swallows thickly as the fear nearly drowns him, "I don't know," is all he can get out. It's too quiet, much too quiet. His brother is down, that much he's sure of. He gently slips his hands under Iris and shifts her into his arms. She whimpers as he lifts her up and against his chest.

He leaves the ashes of the book that had caused all this scattering in the wind, his gun lays on Iris's stomach, a lot of good it would do them right now with his hands full. He does his best to shift Iris into a more comfortable position so her head isn't hanging leaving strain on her neck. Her forehead presses into his neck.

"Dean." Is the desperate whisper that reaches his ear from barely moving blood lined lips. He watches silent tears rivulet down dirt and blood grimy cheeks.

"Sh," he soothes even through his own fears, through the very beat of his heart that's screaming at him FIND DEAN FIND DEAN! "We're going to find him right now, going right now, I promise." The words get lodged in his throat.

I promise.

And yet here she lay in his arms bleeding and broken, pleading for the one thing she trusted and loved. He swallows around the pain in his throat and begins to walk towards the far corner of the walled-in lot.

With one well-aimed kick the rusty, iron bar gate gives way to Sam and he's out in the street behind the book shop. He walks quickly towards the front of the street, his heart in his mouth unsure of what he will find in front of the shop where Dean had stepped out so confidently. Sure that all their bullets had been used up.

But he and Iris had both heard gun shots.

He rounds the corner to find utter chaos. There's the black car with all doors open, alarm sounding off. There's a body of a Styne strewn down the front steps of the book shop, one precise shot oozing blood in the center of his forehead. The second body lays in a twisted heap at the bottom of the stairs. His head is an empty cavern, blood and brains left sliding down the the hand rail, the edge of which Dean had apparently used to break open his skull.

The third and last body is sitting up lifelike against the edge of the steps; a huge shiny switchblade shoved up the roof of his mouth, into the brain and back through the top of his skull, the tip sparkling in the sunlight on his bloody scalp. They all look like some sort of mutant stereotype with their black suits and blonde hair and bloody bodies. Sam's not prepared to spot blue jean and plaid and dark brown hair lying twisted in their midst.

tbc...

Thank you so much for reading!

I'M SORRY guys! I kno it's been a while on this one. Thank you for ur patience. I'm going to try and finish this up, so next chapter will be here soon! :):)

(Review? ;);)!)

To answer a few questions from the comments; I have no idea where Cas is in all of this actually, lol. Which might be really bad writing on my part.

As far as Iris reading the Supernatural series goes, I decided against that because I felt like her and Dean growing to trust each other and telling their stories was so important. I wanted Dean and Sam to be more like a legend to Iris than characters in a fiction.


	14. Chapter 13

Chapter 13.

Dean is nearly overwhelmed by the devastated look on Iris's face as Sam drags her away from him and towards the back door. He takes a deep breath telling himself that the sooner he gets this done and over with the sooner he can hold her tight and comfort her. He stands, colt held high next to his ear and opens the front door.

Sunlight nearly blinds him as he opens the door and stands on the front step. The four stooges stand at the bottom of the stairs with some serious expressions and even more serious, really LARGE hand pieces. Dean puts on a smirk and rocks back on his heels, thumbs hooked in his belt loops.

"Howdy boys, why the long faces?"

Dean ducks just in time as the middle man lifts his fire arm and three bullets whiz towards Dean, embedding themselves into the wood walls just behind Dean's feet. He quickly jumps back to his feet and already one Styne is half way up the stairs. He lets fly a kick only for the massive man to grab his ankle and give it an excruciating twist. Dean yells in frustration and lets a bullet fly after a Styne that disappears through the library door...towards Iris and Sam.

When he misses he turns back around and coldly aims and shoots a bullet almost point blank. The goon plunges down a dead weight dragging Dean's foot with him with a round bullet hold in the center of his forehead. Dean falls with him, his ankle grasped in a death grip. The back of his head smacks smartly against the concrete step.

Through watery vision Dean sees a Styne come into view over him. With his other foot he pries the grip loose on his ankle from the dead man's hand. Simultaneously he grabs the man's head above him and they meet in the middle in a shattering head butt. Dean feels as though his eardrums have burst and his brain is leaking out from his ears. He shakes his head desperately trying to clear it as the two men grapple tripping over the body strewn down the stairs. His hunter instincts has him hearing the switch blade long before he sees it.

His opponent has him by the neck trapped under the hand rail. Dean struggles fruitlessly and that's when he sees the metal glinting in the sunlight. The other Styne is lumbering towards them and Dean bucks up his lower body unseating the man choking him. He kicks up his freed legs to knock the man on top of him into the hand rail.

The grip around his neck loosens and Dean sees the stunned look in the man's eyes above him. He slips under his legs and to his knees just as the knife wielding Styne is on him. A knee full force to the face just about takes him under, his hand instinctively grabs the one holding the knife.

The Styne drives his knee into his stomach and Dean's pretty sure he hears the already weakened ribs crack in surrender. He grunts with the impact, and the fact that he has no breath. He lets a punch fly into the man's crotch and then his stomach, he uses his opponents stumbling weight to propel himself to his feet and delivers the hardest hit he can to the Styne's throat.

The enemy croaks out a surprised breath and Dean simply kicks the knife from his weakened grip. Reflexes have the ten inch blade caught midair and driven up the roof of his opponent's mouth and into his brain before Dean even realizes he has the upper hand.

He's grabbed from behind and Dean's stomach is rolling along with the rest of the world around him. He's gasping for breath but the arm around his neck isn't very forgiving. The Styne behind him grabs onto his wounded arm, fingers digging into the stitches and ripping the flesh open again. Then taking advantage of Dean's agony he punches into his side relentlessly, the third one causing a black out in his vision and then pain so hot it felt freezing to race through his body.

He bites back a scream and throws back his body weight leaving them panting against the handrail. He twists them around so fast the man behind him blinks confused. He grabs the man's head behind him and pulls him from over his shoulder slam into the edge of the hand rail. The first hit has him fazed again and Dean slips from his arms and behind him where he proceeds to bash out his brains.

When he finds his hands slick with blood and his face splattered with it he looks down to find a mere smattering of a head left in his hands. His breaths heavy as he stumbles back and realizes he's blacked out momentarily. It scares him nearly out of his mind; it reminds him too much of the Mark of Cain.

His heart is beating agonizingly against his skull. The world spins around him, he can't seem to get his feet under him as he points himself towards the book shop so he can go find Sam and Iris and that last Styne. Suddenly he's plummeting towards the cement and the jarring impact against it lets fly a cry from his bloody mouth.

A hand sneaks down to press against his side that is aflame with pain, he wants to roll over and find the sky so he knows which way is upright and alive, he wants to find Sam's or Iris's name with his tongue. Only a whimpering moan falls from his mouth as darkness overtakes him.

...

Iris is a barely there weight in his arms as Sam stumbles with worry over the sidewalk and dead bodies to his brother's prone figure. He goes to his knees without jostling Iris too bad even though she moans with the minute movement. He slips the arm he has under her legs out and lets her lower body rest across his knees.

His trembling fingers go to his brother throat praying and pleading for a pulse. He finds a sluggish one, beating away under the scarily white skin. He can't see Dean's face but blood coats his clothes and exposed skin. All the blood probably wasn't his given the brutality of the kills but still Sam's scared.

"Dean." He gives his brother's still form a gentle shake.

Iris stirs at his name and whisper it in repeat. Sam tightens his arm around her small shoulders and uses his other hand to turn Dean over. His brother's face is destroyed, not as bad as Lucifer had done but close. His nose is broken, Sam feels vomit coming up his throat even thinking of that agony and he quickly swallows.

He's almost thankful Iris is out of it so she can't see this gory sight. He doesn't know and mostly doesn't want to guess what else is wrong with his brother but he knows for a fact he and Iris need help. He also needs to get them out of here before the cops come around.

The hospital the boys preferred in Lebanon was about five minutes away. Sam could have them there in three. His hand is warm on Dean's shoulder, he gives his brother's still body a pat.

"Imma put Iris in the car and come back for you, okay? Be right back." He promises. Slips keys from his brother's bloody jacket and cradles Iris carefully again. Thankfully the car is close, it only takes Sam ten long steps to reach her. The doors are unlocked for once and opens the back door and as gracefully as he can lays Iris in the back seat.

A grimace paints her face but she makes no noise, which Sam doesn't like. He soothes a big, comforting hand down her cheek, brushes bloody hair away from her eyes.

"Be right back," he assures, "Gonna go get him."

He shuts the door and opens the passenger door and then dashes back to his brother's side. He gives him a good shake. Knows Dean is bad, but he's been worse. Knows it's better if Dean's awake. His brother groans and his body curls in on itself, blood is coating his straight teeth and lips and Sam really hopes that's from the epic nose bleed he's having right now and not internal bleeding.

"Dean, you with me man?"

"S'm?" he gets whispered back to him.

Sam's smile shows off bloody straight teeth too. "Hey...god, you scared me. C'mon, afraid it's a hospital today."

"Irisss?" Sam's heart shudders with the slurred name and bloody saliva that slides down his brother's chin.

"I've got her in the car, but we gotta go Dean...now."

"C'ps?" He asks, trying but not really helping Sam gain his feet.

"Yeah, but also you need a doctor." Sam's arm wraps around him and does his best to hold him up causing as little pain as possible.

Dean groans through gritted teeth and his hold on Sam's wrist is so tight he's afraid it might break. The younger brother steers them towards Baby and soon Dean is gasping, white and in a cold sweat smearing blood all over his precious seats.

He glances over his shoulder through wet breaths at Iris's form laid out over the back seat. His wide eyes meet Sam's as the younger brother gets in the driver's seat. There are no words, but Sam feels like his own heart is withering with the fear reflected in Dean's eyes. As he starts the impala and screeches into the road and off towards the hospital he prays to every power out there.

Please let them be okay, why can't Dean just be happy? He deserves this, please don't let this be taken away from him.

He grows frantic as Dean's head limply falls to the back of the seat, his eyes sliding open and shut lethargically. His own hand finds his brother's across the seat and he gives it a reassuring squeeze, hopes his warmth and familiarity gives Dean more to fight for, gives him something to hold on to.

The minute pressure he gets in return only brings his heart that much closer to the breaking.

The car is silent all the way to the hospital except for hard, shallow breathing grating on Sam's fraying nerves. Iris hasn't so much as given a peep since he left her on the back seat which worries him, Dean is barely coherent his hand lays limp and chilly in Sam's. Sam pulls right up to the emergency room entrance.

When he opens his door there's a woman coming out to meet him and when she catches a glimpse of Iris and Dean she turns around yelling from trauma teams. Sam gently scoops Iris up from her resting place in Baby disturbed by her lack of reaction, she's taken from his arms and placed on a rolling bed. Sam next turns to Dean, he gets an arm under his arms and around his waist.

The EMTs respect his hold on Dean while they get inside. The emergency room is total chaos. Sam vaguely wonders if this many people even live in Lebanon. Once through the door they're standing right beside Iris, nearly as white as the sheet on the thin mattress she's lying on. One of the nurses are slipping a heart monitor onto her fingertip. The sound is slow and light, not comforting at all. Dean's trembling fingers reach for her hand and gently cradle the small member.

"Baby?" He manages out, his voice rough sounding like his throat had been brutalized. He was choked, Sam realizes grimly.

Iris's face turns towards him but nothing else, Sam's not even sure she's aware of the fact and her body might just naturally answer to Dean's presence. Sam's pretty sure she's out for good for a while.

" 'm so sorry," Dean slurs out, dirt and blood grimy fingers gently moving hair from her face. " 'ma make it b'tter I sw'r."

A kind looking nurse steps in between the two of them, but Sam still wants to deck her hard. "I'm sorry, but we need to take the patient now."

He feels the hitch in Dean's chest and the panic in his breathing long before he sees the wide eyes and shaking in his fisted hands. The ensuing argument is deterred by Iris's heart monitor going berserk. Dean tenses and suddenly one of his brother's hands are locked onto Sam's arm the other tight around the rail of Iris's bed.

"Please, S'mmy," he slurs, "You promised...what if I never see 'er again...please..."

"Dean," Sam whispers, holding on to him tight, trying so hard himself not to break. "They're going to try and help her, you've got to let her go..."

He has to use both his hands to gently pry Dean's hand from the rail and nurses begin to roll Iris away and suddenly Sam's arms are full of very desperate big brother as Sam tries to drag him back from following her. "No! Please no..." Dean makes a pitiful exchange of demands and pleas with desperate tears as Iris is swept away from them.

"I'm gonna lose her, we're gonna lose her just like everyone else..."

"Dean," Sam says quietly, shakes him a little. "We're not gonna lose her, she loves you, she's going to come back to you brother." He wraps his arms tight around Dean, holding him close to his chest and talking soothingly into his ear.

"Stay with me Dean, it's gonna be okay. You guys did so good, both of you stupid stubborn badasses. Totally kicked ass...it's going to be okay I promise, I promise Dean."

Another team of nurses wheel up a bed and Sam eases his brother back onto it, Dean gasping as his body stretches out. His hand stays locked onto the collar of Sam's shirt.

"Plz don' leave me S'mmy...plz." Sam's crying with him at this point hanging onto him just as tight.

"Not going anywhere Dean, gonna get you some help. Make you feel better." Sam's and the doctor's eyes meet as she empties a syringe into Dean's IV they hadn't even noticed being put in. As Dean's muscles relax and his eyes roll back in his head he goes under with a whimper of Iris's name, his grip loosening from Sam's shirt.

Sam gently places his brother's hand on his chest so he can be taken away for treatment. Dean is rolled away from him, nurses cutting the clothes away from his body, their brows creased. Sam is standing shocked with surprise.

His brother loves Iris. Loves her. And not like Cas or Dad or even Mom...loves her like Dean loves Sam. It's something Sam has never seen, he's never seen Dean act the way he acts about his brother about another human being. And he knows what it is. He's spent hours and hours thinking about the way Dean treats him.

Devotion.

Loyalty.

It all boils down to love. Pure, unconditional love.

A love that needs nothing in return, a love that burns so bright and so hot that nothing not even hatred can put it out. It's something so Dean, only Dean. And Iris is like Sam now, he's a necessity for his brother to live and to breath. She's something Dean lives to take care of and nurture and make happy.

And now Sam is so much more afraid. If he loses this new friend, he will lose his brother and he's never been in that position before, never had to depend on another human being to make his brother happy. It was always just him and Dean against the world. He sinks into a cold plastic waiting room chair the shakes setting in as he covers his mouth with his hands.

He sees all of Dean's clear smiles and sparkling eyes of the last few months and knows he now shares the privilege of making those happen with someone new. Someone he knows for a fact is worthy of him...and while it's difficult for Sam to realize Dean has let someone else in he's also glad.

Dean deserves to have as many people as possible to love and be devoted to him as he is to the rest of the world. Sam feels nauseous as he thinks of the possibility that they won't last long enough to live to its fullest this miracle of love they've found in each other.

Time would only tell. Sam settles in to wait.

tbc...

Can't wait finish this up! Hope y'all r liking this!

Thank you for reading...plz review? ;);)


	15. Chapter 14

Chapter 14.

 _When Iris feels wind and warm sunlight on her face she opens her eyes. Eyelashes flutter against her pale cheeks dotted with feckless that are products of North Carolina's endless summers. She smiles as she takes in the smell of honeysuckle and hears a dog barking in the distance echoed by the mooing of a cow._

 _Complete peace drapes over her as she takes in the butterflies and dragonflies flying in the crab apple tree above her. This was her favorite spot at home. The grass was so green and so soft and as she rises to a sitting position it spreads out in front of her sloping to the house. It's the old family place, old white paint, wrap around porch...so many memories Iris's heart fills to the breaking just looking at the old familiar witness to her childhood._

 _The sky is so blue and bright her eyes hurt, the air is humming with bugs and humidity but Iris is used to it. She can find the beauty there regardless. To her left the land slopes down into wild pasture and an old tobacco shed that opts for a barn. To her right there is nothing but wide open soy bean fields, the great green expanse waving in the wind like a rolling ocean._

 _She pushes to her feet and starts to walk towards the family home. The perfect weather is suddenly shadowed by gray clouds billowing up from the horizon behind the rolling fields of green soy beans. It's a bit surreal as the wall of dark clouds take over the sky and up behind the old white farm house._

 _Wind pushes against Iris as if urging her away from her childhood home. She fights against it until she stands on the front lawn a mere handful of yards from the steps leading onto the porch. Her hair blows in the wind across her face nearly blinding her._

 _She gazes up at the face of the house, the empty windows, the door without a wreath, the porch without the dog and cat and welcoming pitcher of lemonade on the table beside the bench swing...this was not the way she wanted to remember this place._

 _She turns away with a shudder...four wooden pyres stand on the lawn, in sharp contrast to the green grass._

 _"No, no, no." She whispers, panic setting in quickly. The pyres burst into flame, silhouetting the dark shadows of bodies being burned away...loved ones that have seen their last rays of sunshine. This was Iris's worst day, the day that had ruined her, that had changed her and marred her forever. Damage that had only been undone when Dean had first held her tight in his loyal, safe arms._

 _She stumbles into the midst of them, the fires hot against her skin. The wind picks up, black smoke billowing up into the angry grey sky. And then suddenly it isn't her family it's Dean instead, lying there burning. His eyes dead and shallow, the green tuning into burning ember as his skin crackles and bones begin to crumble to hot ash._

 _"DEAN!" She screams helplessly, hands tearing at the wooden spears forming his burial pyre. The hot wood burns her hands terribly, searing hit pain not deterring her. Her efforts get her no where and Dean is gone in a dark, oily billow of smoke._

 _She sinks to the ground wrapping arms around herself, curling in on herself, hanging to some sliver of sanity. This can't be happening, this can't be real. But no matter how much she pinches herself she doesn't wake up...the burns on her palms all the way down to the bone award her excruciating pain. No, this is real...all too real._

 _Memories flash to her of the sound of guns fired and of Sam holding her tight and saying, "I don't know." He didn't know, Sam Winchester didn't know where his brother was, didn't know if he was alive. But the Winchester brothers were inseparable, there was no Dean without Sam, no Sam without Dean._

 _Had she truly lost him? Maybe she'd died and this was her hell knowing she had lost him, but not really being sure at all. A cruel small ember of hope always burning in her chest...the love that would never die, that would never burn out._

 _As if knowing her thoughts and doubts, fears and hopes, Dean appears in the second story window of the white farm house. He looks down at her and he's white, nearly transparent, but he smiles._

 _God, that smile._

 _He might be already gone but even an apparition was better than nothing, she stands and dashes towards the front door...towards him. Towards the man who had redeemed her, who had taught her to live and love and WANT again._

 _She's swallowed by a blazing bright light long before she reaches his beloved, safe embrace._

...

By the hand of God or some such high power Iris and Dean get rooms at least on the same floor. Sam went to Iris first, sat beside her bed for a few minutes her small, slender hand swallowed by his. The skin of her face purple and blue with bruising and her right arm is in a cast. Her doctor tells Sam somehow she escaped with just broken bones and some head trauma.

Sam nearly melts to the floor with relief, he'd been so afraid the kicks to Iris's stomach may have caused internal injuries. As it was she had three broken ribs and the broken arm. The doc said she would wake up when she was ready and probably need a few days of rest and pain meds at the hospital before going home.

"Get better quick," he whispers to her as he presses a kiss to her now clean dark hair before leaving her to go to his brother. He lets himself into the dark room. All the lights off except for the ones behind Dean's bed, Sam shuts the door behind him and stands beside his brother to look him over carefully.

Dean's face is a mess of bruises like Iris's except he's got a bandage over the bridge of his nose. There's a lot of swelling but honestly, Sam's seen it worse. The knife wound on his brother's arm has been stitched and wrapped loosely with gauze. Dean is shirtless but his abdomen is wrapped securely with a white bandage.

Sam rightly guesses that his brother has a handful of broken ribs, the bruising and choke marks around Dean's throat aren't very comforting either, he's going to guess that's why Dean was wearing an oxygen mask. He grabs one of his brother's hands. Both of which are swollen and knuckles split open. The pointer finger of his left hand is splinted, another broken bone to add to the list.

Sam lets out a shaky sigh and the heart monitor beeping out his brother liveliness calms him. He closes his eyes and lets his forehead rest on the bedrail. They were both alive...and they both were safe. Dean's hand lay warm and heavy in his own, Iris was sleeping on her own and would wake up when she was ready to come back to Dean.

Dean may take a little more patience and care, his doctor walks into the room. Sam stands and shakes her hand, watches as she looks over Dean's chart at the end of the his bed which Sam had already looked at.

"Hi, Sam right?"

He nods and she gives him a kind smile. "You're Mr. Dean Alman's brother here?"

Sam nods again, swallowing thickly as he looks at Dean's almost unrecognizable features. She smiles at him again, this time sympathetically. Her hand falls comfortingly on his arm.

"Don't worry Sam, your brother's pretty strong I think he's gonna be fine."

Sam nods, also 'pretty' sure his brother would always come back to him, to them.

"Okay, so this is what we're looking at with Mr. Alman. At first we were afraid he was unconscious due to the head trauma he suffered but then we came across some pretty severe internal bruises over his kidney. The pain and the blows to his head combined is probably what caused the loss of consciousness. There is no bleeding on the brain or danger of permanent damage. We will have to let a pretty nasty concussion run its course though.

"We cleaned and stitched his arm up. We were able to halt the swelling of his throat but that is what the oxygen cannula and mask is for. With the broken ribs he's just not able to breathe ideally for himself right now."

"When will he wake up?" Sam asks, quietly...he's had his fair share of dealing with internal injuries and Dean, he wants his brother awake and reassuring him he's fine with snarky comments and smirks.

"Right now he's heavily medicated for the pain, so I should think he'll be opening those eyes up for you sometime tomorrow. But let me warn you, he's going to have a massive headache and be extremely sore. He's going to need a couple days of strong pain medication and antibiotics through IV just to stave off infection internally with the bruising."

Sam nods, all this expected, so thankful there were no alarming surprises. He was going to keep Dean and Iris in the hospital for as long as he can manage. Which with their combined forces may not be long at all. But damnit! He's the one who has to worry!

He sighs again relieved and runs his hands down his face. The doctor pats him reassuringly smiling, "He's going to be okay Sam, especially with you looking out for him."

You have no idea. "Thanks doc."

"Please call me Emma." She says, hanging Dean's chart back on his bed. Sam gives her a sincere dimpled smile.

"Alright, thanks Emma."

"No problem, see ya soon."

Sam waves and then falls back into his chair tiredly. "Dean, Imma beat your ass when you get out of here, I was so worried." No reaction, but that's okay. Sam has spent a lot of time in hospitals talking to an unconscious brother. "And I feel sorry for whatever cops come up on that scene first because dude, seriously bloodbath has a whole new meaning now. You destroyed those guys..which I guess I didn't do any better."

He settles back into his chair propping his arm up on the mattress so it lays beside Dean's, their limbs meeting from elbow to hand. "Can't decide if the doctor is sweet on you or me...pretty sure it's me since my face isn't destroyed..." he cackles, "Wait till you see your face, gonna be so pissed. But don't worry, old man, I'm sure Iris will still love you.

"She's gonna be fine too, by the way, just sleeping it off. They said she'll probably be pretty sore too, y'all two will be hobbling around like you're a hundred." He giggles at the picture of probably the best looking couple he's ever seen limping around with each other with their matching bruised and swollen faces.

"Hurry up and wake up so I can see it in real life, you hear?"

Sam doesn't remember half of the things he says to his brother or drifting off to sleep, forehead on the edge of the mattress. He misses Dean's head slowly turning towards him over the next few minutes, his subconscious drawn towards Sam. Even in their obliviousness they both rest better for it.

...

 _Dean jerks awake at the sound of a baby's cry. He immediately recognizes the room. His bedroom at the old family home. He's panting and sweating in surprise as he sits upright in the small bed. He's on his feet and dashing towards the nursery. Just has a gut feeling just KNOWS what night this is, knows what's going on down the hall._

 _He bursts into the nursery and scoops Sammy up in his arms wrapped in blankets. Azazel stands on other side of the crib head bent down. Mary is already pinned to the ceiling blood dripping from her stomach and the massive wound there but Sam is warm, and heavy, and alive in his arms. He's nuzzling against Dean's neck, cooing with contentment at the familiar smell coming to surround him in his moment of distress._

 _Dean backs away from the crib and the demon that ruined his and Sam's shot at happiness._

 _"You can't have him." He says firmly, arms tightening around the tiny body in his arms, drawing the blanket in farther around Sammy, guarding him from the malevolent presence._

 _Azazel chuckles as he snaps his fingers and Mary bursts into flames with agonizing screams._

 _"He's already mine." The demon hisses with a smile and then disappears._

 _Dean looks down at the familiar, precious little face in terror, blood stains those adorable dimples, the little tongue red with it...eyes fading into empty, void black. Dean's heart shatters, he's horrified but he doesn't let go, doesn't run._

 _Holds his little brother close, so much closer, "I'm sorry Sammy, so sorry, couldn't keep you safe..."_

 _The baby is fading from his arms and Dean clutches at nothing but air as the vision fades, "No...Sammy." He chokes out as the last flashes of his little baby brother fades from in between his fingers._

 _"Dean."_

 _Dean whips around at the sound of the familiar voice. His grown brother stands there...or Lucifer he's not entirely sure. The white suit is impeccably spotless. His mouth is a blood red gash, blood slipping down his chin where his tongue captures it before it drips onto the shining material._

 _"Sammy, no..." he starts reaching to him, to help him...to save him from himself, from Azazel, from Lucifer._

 _"It's alright Dean." Sam says, and it's definitely Sam. The puppy dog eyes, the dimpled smile...the soft, soothing tone. "It's alright Dean...there was no saving me..."_

 _The ground opens up under his brother like a gaping mouth and swallows Sam. His brother disappears into the blackness. Dean jumps forward, but is too late, his hands close around empty air. The hole in the ground closes up and Dean is left alone standing in the midst of dead grass and tombstones._

 _"Baby?"_

 _He turns to find Iris standing behind him shivering barefoot in the wet grass. He looks around trying to find a hint as to what is going on here._

 _"Iris baby? What are you doing here?" He asks, going to her, slipping off his jacket and placing it over her shoulders, it swallows her trembling frame. He pulls her to him, but she pushes away, her eye big and scared._

 _"You promised," she whispers, "Promised it would be okay, promised you wouldn't leave me."_

 _"I..."_

 _"You promised." She whispers firmly, her heartbreak showing in her eyes._

 _"I know." Is all he can croak out, feeling tears slipping down his cheeks and landing on her hands where she's holding onto him desperately like he's about to be ripped from her. "I know, I'm sorry."_

 _"I know," she answers. Sad smile reaching her eyes as she stands on her tiptoes and places a small hand on his cheek, thumb grazing over his bottom lip. "It's over now," she says quietly, "We did it, it's over."_

 _He smiles back to her, raises as hand to hers on his face and takes it in his. He presses a kiss into her palm and watches as she shivers. She pulls him out of Stull Cemetery and into the unknown beyond and Dean follows willingly._

 _He knows vaguely he's in some dream, that's he's not in his body...that he might be leaving the waking world forever is he follows this spirit of Iris, he doesn't know if Iris is pulling him deeper or just his soul leading him calmly towards the life after. Is he dying? Is he dead?_

 _Maybe Iris is really here, maybe she already died. He remembers her white bruised skin, and her blood staining those soft, beautiful lips, the weak heart beat. Maybe she's pulling him into the next life with her...or maybe she's leading him to wakefulness where he'll see her soon._

 _Either way he doesn't care. He promised he wouldn't leave her, promised she'd be safe. He'll follow her wherever she goes, so he follows even though unsure if she's leading him to life on the other side or back to Sammy and their life together on earth. Bright light swallows them as they meet the rest of their future hand in hand._

...

"Iris."

It's a familiar voice calling her up to consciousness. She can feel warm lamp light on her eyelids, a thumb rubbing the soft skin of the underside of her wrist soothingly like Dean did sometimes. The hand encasing hers is too big for Dean's and the touch lighter and more discreet. The softer, less deep and gravely tone, with a hint of dimples lets her know it's Sam.

"Iris, you gonna wake up?"

She feels her eyelashes flutter against her cheeks as she tries to fight her way to the light.

"There ya go that's it," he urges gently. "I'm right here, ready to have someone to talk to..." he chuckles and she likes the sound of it, rich and melodious. She tries to turn her head towards the sound and pain laces through her entire frame, her first words are drowned with a half whimpered groan.

"Oh yeah," she hears regret in his voice, "Maybe not move right now. You're like one huge bruise all over."

She finally gets her gritty eyes open and blinks slowly a couple of times to clear her vision. Sam appears beside her, shaggy hair a little shaggier than usual, black spots under his eyes. He lifts a plastic cup of water with a straw to her lips and she sips from it gingerly.

"Mmmm," she sighs, "Thanks, that feels amazing." She frowns at the scratchiness of her voice, but Sam just smiles sunnily at her.

"Don't worry," he says, "That'll go away, you just haven't talked in a while."

"How long?" She asks.

Sam's face darkens a little. "Thirty-six hours," he says quietly.

"Wow," she breathes out with a sigh, "Only felt like a little while."

"Yeah well, felt more like thirty-six years to me," Sam huffs.

She raises a worried eyebrow at that as fear clouds her mind and she looks around the room without moving as much as she can. No Dean.

No Dean.

"Where's Dean?" She asks, voice suddenly high and cracking on his name. She hears the heart monitor speed up, and no wonder she feels like her chest is about to crack open if Sam doesn't answer quick.

"He's asleep Iris..."

"What's wrong, why hasn't he woken up yet like me?" Tears are trembling on her eyelashes, and Sam's surprised by the strength with which her hand grasps his.

"He just needs some time Iris, he got knocked around pretty good."

"But..." she feels herself trembling as she realizes it wasn't Dean calling to her...or at least not from this world.

"But what?" Sam asks, feeling her anxiety.

"Just...just a weird dream." She answers. Sam frowns at that. "I wanna see him," she says next, a tear tickling as it disappears into her hair. Sam smiles at her as he thumbs one from her cheek. She looks down, embarrassed.

"It's okay Iris," he assures her, "It's a lot I know. You've got to get cleared first, but I will be more than happy to take you to his room."

He doesn't tell her how Emma looks at Dean's chart with a frown on her forehead. He doesn't tell her how Dean whispers his and her names through swollen chapped lips with a grimace as the night terrors cause him to jar muscles and bones that shouldn't be moved just yet.

He doesn't share his worry or share the burden of the paralyzing fear that Dean should have woken long before her.

...tbc

PLZ REVIEW!? ;);)


	16. Chapter 15

...

Chapter 15.

The doctor clears Iris to go in a wheelchair to Dean's room with Sam, who is pretty sure the doctor could have said no and Iris would have still gone somehow or another. Sam lets the nurse help her into some hospital sweat pants, but she's still shivering in the white tank top, so Sam wraps one of his own thick plaid shirts around her shoulders.

Her smile shines brightly from her pale, bruised face as she threads her one unharmed slender arm into the shirt. It about swallows her whole, but the flannel is thick and soft and Sam can tell she's a lot more comfortable wrapped in it. He helps her ease into the wheelchair without much pain and then he starts pushing her towards Dean's room.

He can tell she's nervous, hands clasped in her lap where the cuffs of his shirt are pooling around them, he places one hand on her shoulder and gives her his bravest encouraging smile. In truth his heart is kind of shuddering and stopping too

He opens the door and wheels her in and quietly shuts it behind them to give them some privacy. Iris holds her bottom lip between her teeth as Sam wheels her close to Dean. He watches from a foot or so back as she leans her chest against the bed and grabs his hand in both of hers.

She presses whisper kisses into his palm, and fixes the blankets around his bandaged ribs in some way that was apparently better than before. He watches a great big sigh escape her and all the tension just bleed from her shoulders. She knows something Sam doesn't know, or she just has more faith...everything is okay now that she's with him.

He'll come back to her soon.

"Sam?" She asks quietly.

He steps up beside her, "Yeah?"

"I don't wanna leave him again." She says so softly he barely catches it, she's still mumbling over Dean's hand that's clasped tightly in both of hers.

"Okay." He doesn't argue, knows it won't do any good, "I'll see what I can do."

"Thanks."

He drapes the blanket from the end of Dean's bed over her lap before he heads off in search of Dean's doctor to convince her Iris's presence would wake him up. The same idea was on Emma's lips as he approaches her.

"It's entirely normal Sam," she assures him, "He's ready to wake up he just needs an extra push, Iris is probably the perfect candidate for that."

He rewards her with his biggest smile and she's momentarily dazzled, so he prevails himself a look at Dean's chart in her hand. He heads back to Dean's room feeling a little better, maybe things were looking up after all, he felt hopeful.

He opens the door and slips in to find Iris curled up beside Dean in the small hospital bed, casted arm lying carefully on his bandaged stomach. The other arm lay under her head, hand spread out against the bare skin of his shoulder.

Their soft breaths are rising and falling in unison, he takes his seat again listening to the comforting duet...somehow his faith has been restored too. Iris is a godsend, he thinks they'll be seeing Dean very soon.

...

Waking up was like coming up from deep murky water, like breaking into fresh air when you've been stuck in a cave for a while...like petrichor after a long dry spell. Dean latches onto the feeling of a familiar warm weight on his side. He grimaces at the feeling of soft light on his eyelids. There's soft background noise, sounds like crappy TV.

He wanted to go back to warm darkness and oblivion, but he didn't think he could slip under again. There's a soft movement against him, a gentle rustling of fabrics, the covers shift letting in a draft of chilled air. He squirms a little.

"Sam." A tremulous voice says breathlessly over him, "Sam, I think he's coming around."

He's aware of a larger presence on his opposite side, and soon the familiar HUGE hand of his little brother encases his own. He can feel a desperate pressure, hopeful trembling, the feminine shaking voice whispers prayers to him to come back to her...it's definitely time to wake up.

"Dean?" Sammy's strong but gentle tone asks, "You there? C'mon back brother, been waiting around for you."

Dean feels feather light kisses being pressed into his hair, a tiny hand on his shoulder, a thumb rubbing over the soft skin there. Iris. He feels a smile on his lips even before his eyes flutter open and blink for a moment to clear his gritty eyes.

A worried face appears in front of him and recognizes Sam's sharp features at once. Little brother looks a little disheveled but otherwise okay, even though Dean doesn't like the stubble on his slightly sunken cheeks and the darkness under his eyes.

He turns his head to find green and brown eyes sparkling at him with thankful tears. He'd know that face anywhere, the brunette curls cascading down around the delicate features. That adorable, barely turned up nose, full lips, long lashes that made his toes curl just thinking about them blinking up at him from underneath.

Right now though she looks down at him with a relieved smile, and he's never been looked at so loved and adored and just generally worshiped. He realizes in a moments revelation he's Iris's whole world, he's everything she has. And he'll be damned if that doesn't make him happy.

"Hey baby," he whispers. He chuckles deep in his chest, his own eyes a bit wet as she just buries her face against his neck. He can feel her trembling body next to his, huge wet breaths against his skin accompanied by tears.

He shifts and slips an arm around her holding her close against him. His eyes dim with the pain, and he looks to Sam who looks on with a smirk in his face.

"Just be careful," he urges, "You got some broken ribs and internal bruising."

"You good?" Dean asks softly, "How's your leg, have you looked at it?"

Sam just laughs shaking his head, "Yes I'm fine, I looked at a few hours ago, it's healing nicely."

He then turns his attention to the shivering form against him. He's immediately chagrined with the sight of the cast, "Iris, how about you baby? Are you good?" His fingers run lightly over the cast and he feels her relax as his fingers slip in her hair and rest against her scalp.

She nods, lifting her head and staring at his face with a quiet smile on her face. "I'm alright, Dean, just sore."

"Your arm is broken," he says flatly.

She just laughs, "Trust me it doesn't hurt, I'm as high as a kite."

He gives her a toothy grin, "That's my girl, gimme a kiss."

She gives him a brilliant smile but shakes her head, "You need to rest. Sam? Can you find Emma?"

Sam nods and pats Dean's leg before he leaves the room. Dean groans. Of course they're on first name basis with his doctor and Iris already has Sam wrapped around her little finger. She watches him go while Dean positions his head comfortably on the pillows and looks down at her where her chin is resting on his chest. The door snips as it shuts behind the younger Winchester.

"Kiss me now, baby girl?"

"Of course," she smiles and pushes forward connecting their lips. Dean hums into the feeling, finally having her close again. This close. Her fingers are light as they run over his pecs and the valley of his breastbone.

At first it's a dry kiss, simply letting their lips meet and noses rub against each other back and forth. Then Dean opens his mouth and tongues at the corner of hers. She whimpers at the liquid heat and opens for him and they fall into each other all over again.

They both let out a homecoming sigh as they pull apart and their eyes meet. "We got through it." Iris whispers, almost like she's surprised. Like she hadn't believed Dean back at the bunker.

"Hells yes." Dean whispers, eyes lifting with a smile as he uses his hand in her hair to tip her forward and let their lips meet again.

...

Dean is given a worry free bill of health. He and Iris are still both as sore as can be but after a another day or two of pain meds and slow steps towards getting up and around they're going to be fine. They eat, Iris practically in Dean's lap, Sam just shakes his head, Iris wouldn't eat a bite when he and her doctor asked her too, but as soon as Dean did she was all smiles and easy to win over.

He just shrugs his shoulders and gives up. After all, he was often at the other end of Dean's petition to eat, and he always, always gave in. With a full stomach Iris's head almost immediately snuggles into the crease of Dean's shoulder and neck and is out for the count. Dean just holds her, cradled there in his arms and to her credit she not once bumps his ribs.

Sam finally sits down in his chair and lets his head fall back against the wall, he sleeps for a straight five hours like that. Dean nods off a few times, but mostly his fingers are just skirting up and down Iris's back as he watches TV, his eyes wondering to watch both of them every few minutes.

It's peaceful and thank you god, the storm has passed. True, they're a little worse for wear but they're alive and together and that's what really matters. From his half sitting, half laying position Dean tosses the extra blanket over Sam as best he can. He's still the same old big brother.

Somewhere around six in the afternoon Iris wakes up with the setting sun, she stretches and smacks her lips making Dean lean down and kiss her softly into full awareness. He feels a moan rumbling in his chest as her fingers run through his hair and down his back.

"Hey," he whispers fondly, "How are you feeling?"

"Better all the time," she answers with a sweet smile herself.

"Might wanna just keep doing what we're doing, huh?" Dean mumbles softly, grinning as she laughs lightly and gives him more kisses.

"I'm hungry again." She says as an afterthought.

"That we can fix that too," he says smiling down at her and pulling her closer than ever as he reaches for their room phone and Iris grabs the menu.

"What you want?" He asks, looking over her, his chin resting on the top of her head.

"Something basic," she says, matching his hushed tones. "Just want to be full," she laughs.

"Mhmm," he nods, "You gotta eat babes." She stills in his arms.

"I just, I couldn't Dean, couldn't stomach anything while you weren't here with me." She shudders, seemingly melting even closer to him.

He smiles and smooths a hand down her shining brown hair watches her carefully, catches the sad look crossing her beautiful face that couldn't be faked. "Okay, just making sure...we got plenty of time to make up for it."

The menu is trembling in her fingers so Dean takes it away from her and presses her head down against his chest. He speaks into the top of her head.

"Iris I'm not going anywhere. Staying with you babe, you and Sammy forever."

She nods but Dean just shushes her, changes her position in his arms so she's lying across his chest so she can look up into his face. She giggles through panicked tears of a few minutes ago.

"We're gonna be one happy family. And we're gonna be so freaking in love it's going to be too much for even Sam. We're gonna drive him crazy. And we're going to to do everything we ever said we were, cause we survived..." he takes her hand and presses it against his chest... "Feel that? I survived, you survived...and I'm not going anywhere. And if I have to spend the rest of my life making sure you eat just to prove it I'll do it. I'll cook for you every meal of every day."

Iris laughs and Dean uses his fingers to rub the wetness of tears from her skin. The soft pads of his fingertips slip over her smile reverently.

"So beautiful, babe. What did I do right to deserve you?"

She sobers for a moment, "Its not about deserving Dean, it's about what is...I don't know why you're mine but you are."

She watches his eyes sparkle for a moment looking a little wet. Then he's pressing kisses along the column of her neck and the side of her face, tickling her ear. She laughs and hides from him against his body.

"Stop it, you're tickling me!" She objects, snaking a hand up and covering his mouth with her palm and pushing him away. She laughs again as he starts giving her palm loud wet smooches. "Stop," she wines without in real heat.

"Then get up here and give me some real sugar," he demands, smiling too.

She leans up and kisses him breathlessly, teeth catching on his bottom lip making his pupils blow up.

"Play fair," he warns, voice already deeper and sending shivers of anticipation down Iris's spine. He pulls her back down to where he'd been cradling her before and she lays on his bare skin listening to his heart beat away as she agrees to all the food he thinks she should eat.

"Is that okay with you?"

She nods, having absolutely no idea what he said before.

"You have no idea what I'm talking about do you?" He says, looking amused.

She shakes her head and brushes a kiss onto his collarbone. "I trust you." Is all she says. Dean orders the food and they eat together, Dean making sure Iris eats enough for his and her comfort. She drifts off to sleep not long after and Dean considers that a score.

He hates feeling her nervous tension and the panic in her eyes when she can't see him or feel him. His heart broke when she woke up breathless and fingers wrapped around his wrist so tight it hurt, but hey, take your wins and your loses and be thankful. He makes sure to stay as close to her as possible, lets her ear lay over his heart, lets himself indulge in touching her hair or back all the time.

They're going to be okay, he's confident of that, but he's sure it's going to take some time.

Sam stretches and wakes slowly as the clock hits seven and Dean can hear his stomach growl from where he lay curled around Iris. Sam looks to him immediately, just like Iris wanting to make sure he's still alive and kicking still.

"You still good?" He asks.

Dean nods softly.

"Iris?"

Dean clears his throat and Iris mumbles in her sleep and settles against him again, Dean smiles. "Better, she's better I think. She was kind of..."

"Unstable." Sam finishes for him.

Dean nods regretfully.

"Yeah, I figured the best for both of you was to be together. She's a jumpy thing."

Dean laughs, "Yeah, she can be that way, but her family Sam...her story I can't even imagine."

Sam bites the inside of his mouth. "Tell me later, I'm just glad you got her calmed down. Probably shouldn't leave her alone..."

"Yeah, no." Dean assures, and then laughs, "Not sure if I could even if I wanted too." As if sensing the conversation Iris slides her casted arm even further over Dean's stomach and her leg goes over his protectively.

Sam laughs, "Well, I'm gonna get some supper and see when I can take you two kids home."

Dean rolls his eyes.

"More like love birds."

"Go screw yourself, Sam." Dean says crossly, and Sam laughs his head off out the door.

Dean sighs contentedly and settles down for a nap himself. Hopefully they'd be out of here and moving on with their lives for real sometime tomorrow...until then he's perfectly happy here.

tbc...

Sorry, this chapter turned out to be all fluff, lol! There's only one or two chapters left, and I think it might all be fluff! Anyways thx for reading! REVIEW MAYBE? :):):);););)


	17. Chapter 16

!WARNING! I've had to change the rating on this due to the sex being A VERY LITTLE BIT heavier in this last chapter, you've been warned!

A/N: Also for anyone who wants...the song "Holy Ground" by BANNERS, goes with this chapter and the ending of this story.

Chapter 16.

It's after lunch the next day that Iris's doctor and a nurse comes and takes her away for her final check up while Dean gets his. Though both are still really sore and bruised they're still released and Sam is comforted that both are supplied with ample amounts of pain meds. Dean is also given a mile long speech about recognizing the signs if his condition worsens.

Sam's prediction is right, Dean and Iris hobble out of the hospital (somehow they avoided the wheelchairs) like a couple of old geezers and he gets a good laugh. The two are too thrilled to be freed from the hospital to care about Sam, and Dean even lets him drive home without argument.

"So what do you kids want for supper?" Sam asks, as they pull up in front of the bunker.

Dean groans and looks to Iris, "Thats he's new name for us."

Iris just laughs, "I can live with it."

"Seriously, supper," Sam restates.

"Not your cooking," Dean assures as Sam leans to unlock the door. He dodges the kick Sam badly aims towards his leg.

Iris laughs at their antics and sighs with relief when the iron door swings shut behind them and Sam locks it. The tension bleeds from her shoulders as she follows Dean down the stairs. He drops down into one of the chairs a hand rubbing at his eyes, already pretty worn out.

"Baby, is Chinese good with you?"

"Yeah that sounds great," she answers as she takes the liberty of sinking into one of the plush, leather chairs in the corner.

"Sound good to you, Sammy?" Dean asks, his tall sibling placing their bag on the table and taking out their meds.

"Yep. Iris you got stuff here, or do I need to run to your place?"

She shakes her head, "I got a few things here, enough to last me at least until tomorrow."

"You're probably ready for a shower, aren't you?" Dean asks Iris, getting up.

"Don't get the cast wet." Sam warns, not looking up.

"Thanks for reminding us, dad." Dean says sarcastically.

"Too bad there's not a bath in this place," Iris says, getting up too.

"Don't worry," Dean smiles smoothly at her, "I'll be there to help."

"Thank you for that completely unnecessary information." Sam mumbles.

"Thought you were going for supper Sammy." Dean snarks.

"Yeah, definitely am now," he shoots back and Dean tosses him the impala's keys.

"Laters." Dean calls over his shoulder.

Sam just rolls his eyes and shakes his head.

...

The shower turns out to be strictly no silly business. It seems seeing the full extent of the damage on each other's bodies is a bit sobering. Dean carefully washes Iris's body and they keep the cast perfectly dry. His fingers massage shampoo into her long hair and her scalp. She sighs in relief so glad that itchy dirty feeling is gone. He hands her a clean towel and tells her to go get comfortable and that he'll be there in a minute.

Iris dries off and slips on some underwear and one of Dean's soft flannel shirts. She climbs onto the bed and sighs with relief as her body finally relaxes entirely. Dean comes out of the bathroom along with billowing steam, he pulls on some soft jogging pants and then lays out slowly.

Iris listens to his bones and muscles pop as he stretches out. She fancies she can see the broken ribs but knows she really can't. The stitched up wound on his arm is bare, it looks good like it's healing, but still an ugly reminder of the past few days. His stomach is mottled with bruises, his nose still bandaged, both eyes vaguely black. His knuckles are healing, so is the bruising on his neck but it's still overwhelming for Iris.

She lays on her side and scoots until she right up against him. Slots her legs around his thigh. She gently picks up one hand and scatters kisses over the abused skin. He watches her in silence, eyes blowing up when her tongue momentarily plays along his palm.

She slowly christens every bruise with her kiss and leaves trails of kitten licks over his throat, fingertips dance over his ribs leaving goosebumps rising in her wake. Finally she ends with a kiss to the tip of his nose.

He gives her a smile and then lifts his hand to slowly push hair from her face and pull her down for a real kiss. She sighs into it, lets her casted arm rest gently on his abs. He smiles when he feels her relax and wraps his fingers around the back of her head, lets his tongue wander into her mouth and stroke at the roof of her mouth rewarding him with a whimpering moan.

When they come up for air the intensity of his look scares her a little, no one has ever looked at her like that before. She knows he's having some sort of revelation so she just sighs deep and sinks into the next kiss he pulls her into. Gives back as good as she gets because whether this is forever or not, whether Dean is having second guesses or not she'll never regret this and she'll never forget it.

...

Dean doesn't realize what's happening as Iris begins pressing kisses to his hand, to the broken skin there. Then as she makes her way up his body leaving a trail of arousal with her mouth he realizes what she's doing. He's overwhelmed and feels his eyes burning as she leaves whispers of apologies for the hurt he's born smeared into his skin.

Balancing on her one good arm Iris makes some form of love to all his bruises and wounds, makes them, each and every one, worth it. When she reaches his face after patiently seeking out every bruise he wonders why he lets her do this...it's mushy and kind of girly and it's something people would do when they...

He stops suddenly looking into her eyes. Thinks back to everything they've done for each other, how he's looked after her, how his heart constricts every time he sees a bruise marring that perfect alabaster skin or that bulky cast. How he lets her return the favor, and there's nothing uncomfortable or embarrassing about it...it's just he wants to do it so he does.

And the same goes for Iris. As he watches her eyes light up as they fall to his lips and she sinks into his smile he knows they're in trouble. He'd known before but now he knows more than ever. He can't imagine this life without her anymore and he doesn't want to. He hopes they haven't scared her off with the last few days.

He's pretty sure with the way she moans into his kiss he's in no danger of losing her, but still he holds onto her just a bit tighter. After all he's a Winchester, he's always prepared to fight for the things that are his.

He runs a hand down her side and over the swell of her ass, slips his hand down the inside of her thigh and pulls her tighter against him. She lets out a surprised sound that he swallows down before leaving her lips with a final flick of his tongue over her bottom lip and then noses at her neck taking in the comforting smell of her.

He feels her laugh as it tickles but shudders when his lips close down and he proceeds to give her a welcome bruise. She feels a contented hum rumble in his chest as he pulls her more on top of himself her legs now framing his hips.

"Dean," she urges softly, "Be careful of your ribs."

He grunts in response his hand rubbing at the silky skin of her inner thigh. He takes her casted arm and pulls it over him to rest on the bed beside his head. She rests her forehead against his and they just breathe for a moment, lips only a breath apart.

"I wasn't sure if we'd make it back here." She whispers.

"Me either." He whispers back.

Looking into her eyes he sees the fear and uncertainty and relief there all bundled up together. Both palms on her cheeks, thumbs barely skirting her delicate cheekbones...

"But we did."

...

Iris had lost something when her family died. Her purpose, her meaning...she lost her corner of the world, lost her sense of belonging. Ever since then she's been meaninglessly wandering the world. And even though she made a business and a home for herself, she never really felt like she belonged.

She had made an existence, not a life.

At night when she sat at home alone she told herself she wasn't lonely, and that she was happy and had everything she could possibly want...Dean had changed all of that.

He had shown her once again, that people were everything. That she needed someone in her life...that she wanted someone in her life. He had given her purpose and love and taught her to WANT again. Oh, he'd shown her everything she'd been missing. He's smiles and warm touches and sweet, genuine spirit (though sometimes a little rough around the edges) had opened up her heart again.

She hadn't even been sure if she still had a heart, after her family died she had closed up so tight. And sometimes she was afraid that if she opened up again there would be nothing left in her except a shriveled up heart without a beat and capacity to love ever again.

Dean had taken her gently in hand, wrapped himself and his happiness up in hers and taken a chance with her. He had thawed her out before she'd even realized it, he'd given her something to live for.

And not once. NOT ONCE. Has she regretted opening up to him and giving herself over to this green eyed, flawed, but perfect to her man. She's never afraid to let him hold her when she can't trust anyone else, never afraid to force him to speak his mind, to carry some of his burden that he bears for this old world.

As she sits curled up between the two Winchester boys with Dean's arm wrapped around her eating Chinese takeout and watching Pride and Prejudice and Zombies (Dean mumbling something about an unfair compromise) she realizes she is comfortable. Without a shadow of a doubt she believes she belongs here, and that she and Dean were meant to meet, and that she's meant to be a part of their little messed up family here.

The movie ends, Sam is asleep half sitting up, drooling a little. Dean chuckles softly and throws a blanket over him. She grins and heads for Dean's room knowing he's on her heels. Dean kicks the door shut behind them and looses his shirt as he goes into the bathroom to brush his teeth.

Iris folds the sheets and blankets down, fluffs Dean's pillow since he never does it for himself. She passes Dean as he leaves the bathroom, she hears him 'oomf' falling to the bed as she brushes her teeth.

She looks up into the mirror as she wipes her mouth dry. Same face, same body looking back at her. But something is different. There's the bruises marring her white skin and the split lip, the cast around her broken arm.

Wounds she had taken for a good cause, for people she loved...and they'd made it through. Just like Dean had promised. She meant something to somebody, and that somebody was just as much hers as she was his. This is who she is now. She's changed and it's new and scary as hell, but god, she's so much the better for risking her safety and heart and finding Dean, and the family that came along with that.

As if knowing her and her tumultuous thoughts on the other side of the bathroom door Dean calls for her, tells her to hurry up and come to bed with him. She shakes her head, casts away all doubts and fears...whatever comes in the future she's confident they'll be able to face it together.

She opens the door and is greeted by the sight of Dean Winchester lying on his back smiling at her before she's even fully out. She lets fly a full smile of her own, and feels it reach up into her eyes. Happiness.

"Incoming!" She calls as she jumps over him and onto the bed, crashing to the mattress, sure to avoid his broken ribs.

She revels in the full body laugh she gets from him, her responding laughs ending in a shriek as he rolls over covering her body in his. His strong fingers seeking out and finding all of her most ticklish places. She squirms uselessly, small hands trying to push his away. He just chuckles deep in his chest at her efforts, eyes lit up in amusement at her feeble attempts to release herself.

Iris knows she might as well give up, she's laughing too hard and she's too breathless to even try and gain the upper hand.

"D, Dean," she gasps through giggles, "Oh my gosh, please stop," she breaks into a fresh round of high pitched laughs as one hand skates over her stomach where he's rucked up her shirt and the other on the inside of her knee; her two most ticklish places.

"Sh," Dean urges teasingly, "Sam will hear."

Dae ja vu floods Iris's mind's eye as she thinks back to their first night here in this room together. They had egged each other on by urging silence during sex as the younger Winchester lay slumbering just down the hall.

The switch is immediate and almost undetectable. Dean's touches become hotter and heavier, eyes falling nearly shut as he rises to straddle her hips knees on either side of her, hands on the mattress beside her head.

She gulps and his eyes follow the movement of her throat working. She's a sight, all smooth, white skin spread out on his bed sheets. Eyes dilated and sparkling with excitement at being underneath him, dark hair spread out in dark contrast with the white sheets. His fingers are deftly undoing the buttons holding his shirt around her. She arches up into him as he rocks down to kiss her sweetly.

It could be the first time they kissed or the last time...that's how much it means to them. It's like taking off sandals and stepping onto holy ground, liking crossing the river Jordan into the promised land. It's like coming home or leaving to accomplish age old dreams. It was everything either of them needed. Promises and hopes all bound up together as Iris encircles his neck with her arms and kisses him back.

He traces her teeth with his tongue, gives a stinging nip to her bottom lip and relishes the way her head drives back into the mattress and she lifts her hips to rock against him. They both let out moans into a kiss that's mostly tongue, mouths open in gasping breaths.

Iris rises to help Dean slip the shirt off her arms, she gasps at the feeling of cold sheets against her bare back, but then trembles as his searing hot palms spread out over her rib cage and slip up to cup her breasts. Arms cradle his head as he presses smatterings of kisses into her collarbones and over the pale swells until his tongue snakes around the red areola and then lathes over the hard peaks of her nipples.

She throws her head back panting with the pleasure, everything so hot around her and inside her she feels like she's burning up. Dean is her only saving grace and yet she can't help but feel he's not doing enough. She wants more, more, more...

When Dean looks at her again his eyes blown nearly black, he surges up to suck a hickey into the exposed expanse of her throat when she throws her back again as he grinds his hips down into hers roughly.

"Dean," she whimpers out as his fingers slip down her tummy, around her waist and hook into the thin material of her panties. She gasps in relief and arousal as the cool air hits her newly exposed skin, and she willingly parts her legs for Dean again. He's up from the bed for a moment shucking out of his pants and then pressing down against her again, tongue slipping in between her lips as she gasps when his fingers slip into her.

Her hips circle of their own volition and she raises her body to try and meet Dean's skin where ever possible. Her fingers slip into his hair, play along his shark jawline and then her thumb pets over that simply forbidden bottom lip. He watches her breathlessly as his tongue flicks hot wetness over her finger and she bites her own bottom lip.

"Oh godd..." he mumbles breaking off mid sentence and kissing her more teeth than anything. Biting that bottom lip she'd been chewing on so tantalizingly. "So beautiful baby, you don't even know..."

Her good hand reaches up and cups the side of his neck, her fingers playing in the lower hairs of his scalp. She arches up with an ecstatic cry, eyes squeezed shut and face hidden in his sweat slick shoulder as he slips into her.

She feels something coming apart inside her as he bites down on her shoulder, muffling a groan rumbling in his chest as her heat surrounds him. It's almost too beautiful for her as he presses her arms down to the mattress above her head and pulls her legs up over his shoulders. The change in angle liquefying her insides as he snaps his hips forward against her ass.

He pulls her up for a soul deep kiss as he feels her slowly teetering on the edge. He noses across her cheek breathing in the damp scent of their sweat and sex together.

"I love you." He whispers against her lips, breaths hot against her skin without breaking his rhythm.

There is no thought, no surprised moment, or shocked smile...her hand cups his cheek and her thumb lifts his chin so she can kiss him back hot and messy, mostly just a smear of lips and tongue across the seam of his own.

She's gasping for air and looks deep into his green eyes. "I love you."

She throws her head back, her mouth open with a silent scream, coming completely undone as he slams home into her one last time and then he's arching over her holding her to him with one arm, holding himself up from crushing her with the other.

She feels him letting go too, breathes deep through their aftershocks, glories in the feeling of tears of release coursing down her cheeks and dropping to the bed under them. She feels Dean coming back and he slowly lowers them down to the mattress.

"Hey," he whispers, a hand smoothing hair from her face stuck there with tears. "You okay?"

She nods and watches her own hand move over his face in amaze. "I love you."

She says it in awe. He cocks his head to one side, eyes alive with emotion.

She wants to say more, she wants to thank him for loving her and waiting for her. For taking the time to peel back all her layers...to hold her and know her like no one else ever has. But he pulls the sheets and blankets over their naked bodies starting to catch a chill and shivering. He curls around her, pulling her so close that the start and stop of their skin is lost.

He presses sleepy, worshipful kisses into her hair as he drifts off knowing she's safe. As she lays here in his arms, his warmth bleeding into her she confident that she's found a life, her purpose...this is her home, her holy ground...her little corner of the world.

the end.

...

THE END?! Omg guys I have tears! I don't know if I can say goodbye to them!

THIS IS THE !VERY! !VERY! !VERY! last chapter so if you've been reading this and following, or if you're a new reader plz review and tell me how you liked this story! plz plz plz... ;):);)

Thx so much for going on this adventure with me...see ya again soon, bye for now.

(P.S. For those of you who read the tags I write for the new episodes, trust me it's coming soon, sorry it's a bit delayed.)


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